The Steps To Success
by llamajo
Summary: Senior year is finally over, and I just want to spend the summer hanging out with Stan and Kenny before we leave for college. But my hopes of a relaxing summer are ruined when Cartman wins a cruise trip and invites us along. Stan urges me to go with them, but I know something's not right. Cartman is planning something. I know he is. Why else would he be acting so... nice? Slash.
1. Move One Inch At A Time

**Title: **The Steps To Success

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. All South Park characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Summary: **Senior year is finally over, and I just want to spend the summer hanging out with Stan and Kenny before we go our separate ways in the fall. But my hopes of a relaxing summer are ruined when Cartman wins a cruise trip and invites us along. Stan urges me to go with them, but I know something's not right. Cartman is planning something. I know he is. Why else would he be acting so... nice? Slash.

**Pairing: **Kyle/Cartman (eventually)

**Rating: **Mature

**Warnings: **Profanity and offensive language (it just wouldn't be South Park without it), and eventual slash.

**Author's Notes: **I love South Park. Kyle and Cartman belong together. I think that pretty much sums it up. Enjoy the story!

* * *

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter One: Move One Inch At A Time **

"Don't let your fears overwhelm your desire. Let the barriers you face be external, not internal. Fortune does favor the bold, and I promise that you will never know what you're capable of unless you try."

We all break into applause as Wendy Testaburger, this year's Valedictorian, concludes her graduation speech. There's a loud whistle from behind me, and I roll my eyes, still clapping. That would be Stan.

The graduating class of South Park High is not large by any means, but with the added bodies of the teachers and the parents and the siblings, the gymnasium is completely full and stiflingly hot. We all stand up as a group (still clapping) and watch as Wendy walks off the stage. I can feel my graduation robe sticking to the back of my legs. It's so goddamn hot in here. I suppose I should be focusing more on Wendy's speech than the current temperature, but I just can't concentrate. The fact that I'm officially done with high school hasn't quite kicked in yet.

My classmates give a final cheer and I join them in throwing my graduation cap high into the air. I didn't know people actually still did this, but I guess it's like tradition or something. The humidity and heat in the gym cause my Jew fro to be even larger and uglier than usual, and I scowl as I try to flatten it with my hands. I hear obnoxious laughing from the row of seats behind me.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman!" I yell without turning around. This only causes him to laugh louder. He thinks my hair is so fucking funny. "Fucking asshole," I mutter. It's not _my_ fault my stubborn mother won't let me cut my hair short. I've decided that the first thing I'm going to do when I get to college is cut off all this fucking hair.

I'm jostled through the crowd of students as we all move to find our parents.

"Congratulations, Kyle!" mom says as she pulls me into a tight hug. I'm going to be a fucking college freshman, and I'm still shorter than my own mother. By one inch. Stan says I'll have a late growth spurt or some shit like that.

"Although it really is too bad you weren't Valedictorian," mom continues as she lets me go.

"Just drop it, mom," I sigh.

"Well, I'm just saying," she starts again, but luckily my dad gets her attention so that we avoid a pointless argument. I follow my parents and Ike, who grins at me, through the gymnasium, waving at former classmates on the way out. I sit in the back seat with Ike on the way home. Once there, I'm going to shower and change before going to Stan's graduation party.

Mom is still going on about Wendy being chosen as the Valedictorian, and I roll my eyes and try to ignore her. She's a lot more disappointed about it than I am. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to be Valedictorian, and I'm just as smart as Wendy is, but when it comes straight down to it, Wendy just has more... tenacity. Or some shit like that. So I ended up being second in our class. Not too shabby in my opinion. Butters was third in the class after me (his parents grounded him for a week when they found out) and in fourth after Butters was none other than Eric Cartman.

The fact that Cartman ended up at the top of the class surprised a lot of South Park citizens, but not me. Cartman isn't dumb, he's just a lazy fucker. So when he actually started doing his school work this past year, his grades shot through the roof. Turns out the fat ass is quite smart. Who knew? The only thing I wanted to know was why he suddenly thought school was important. When I asked him, he told me he had to get good grades so that he could follow me to college and annoy me there. Then he started laughing like the asshole he is when he saw my horrified expression, and I knew he didn't mean it, thank God. Just the thought of going to the same college as Cartman makes me want to throw up. He's one of the reasons why I can't wait to leave South Park. Him and my mother.

Still, I wonder. Cartman never did tell anyone where he's going to college. Only his mom knows. He said he didn't want to tell anyone where he's going because he doesn't want any of us to feel inferior. Ha. How nice of him. I'm sure he's going to some weird private school. I, on the other hand, decided to go somewhere far, far away, on the other side of the country. I was accepted into all the schools I applied for, but I chose the one that a) gave me the best scholarship and b) was a place my mom wouldn't complain about constantly. That school ended up being Harvard, even though I'm not going to be a lawyer.

Mom had a hard time accepting the fact that her first born Jewish son doesn't want to be a lawyer, but she eventually got over it (or at least stopped bugging me constantly about it). Sending me to Harvard was her idea, originally. I think she thinks I might change my mind about becoming a lawyer if I go to school there, but that's not going to happen. I agreed to go to Harvard to get her to stop bitching, nothing more; though the scholarship money they offered didn't hurt, either. I don't know what I want to do yet for a career, but getting any degree from Harvard University is pretty damn good either way.

Finally we pull into my garage. I'm already taking my graduation robe off as I walk up the stairs to the bathroom. I'm wondering where to put the robe now that the ceremony is over. Do people actually keep these things? I shrug and put it in the laundry basket. I go to the bathroom and turn the shower on, gratefully taking off my sticky clothes and piling them up on the sink. I step under the warm spray of water and feel the tension in my shoulders slipping away. It takes a while to lather up all my hair with shampoo, and I let my mind wander.

I know that later this afternoon and for the rest of the evening I will be at Stan's graduation party, and I know that tomorrow I will be at other various parties, including my own. Beyond that, I have nothing scheduled for the summer. I thought it would be a good idea to get a summer job to earn some money, but then I realized that it would be pointless to find some place to work only to have to quit a few months later when I leave for school. On top of that, Stan doesn't have a job either, and I just want to spend this summer relaxing and hanging out with him while I still can.

Stan and I had planned on going to the same college, but well, shit happens. And we all have to make decisions. I decided to go with the scholarship and to relieve my mom's bitching. Stan also went for the scholarship, but instead of agreeing with his parents, he agreed with Wendy. I smile bitterly. Of course Stan is going to the same college as Wendy. I know that he didn't pick her over me or anything, but I still feel sore about it from time to time. I just can't help it. Stan has always had to balance Wendy and I in his life. He won't have to do that anymore after this summer, however, because both Stan and Wendy got full scholarships (Stan's is an athletic scholarship) to go to the same college in good old California.

When Stan told me he got a full football scholarship to Stanford University, I knew that's where he was going to choose. There's no way he could pass that up. Stanford is like the best college in all of California. I know I could have gotten into Stanford - probably with a scholarship - but I wanted to go farther away. A part of me was also annoyed that Wendy would be there. I guess I just didn't want a repeat of these past four years of high school, with Stan balancing his time between the two of us. I guess I just want something different, even though I don't know what that is exactly.

I feel much better after my shower and I take my time drying off with the towel. As it stands, there's less than three months before we'll be leaving for college, and then I won't see Stan, or anyone from South Park, until Thanksgiving, at the earliest. This is why I'm resolved to spend lots of time with my friends this summer. I know that it will pass much too quickly, and all too soon I'll be saying goodbye. I shake my head and tell myself to stop being so sentimental. I'll get dressed and go to Stan's grad party. We'll have a good time, and the next day will be my own party. After that, I don't know for sure. I'll just take things one step at a time.

Everything will be all right.

- KB -

It seems like the whole senior class is at Stan's house. I guess it makes sense, since Stan is so popular. Sometimes it confuses me as to how Stan could remain friends with me and yet retain his level of popularity. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an outcast or anything like that, but I'm not anyone's favorite person to be around either. People just gravitate towards Stan, I guess. He's special that way.

I've overheard some of Stan's football friends ask him why he hangs out with me - a nerdy Jew. I always wait for Stan to say something mean about me like how he doesn't actually like me and isn't really my friend, but he never does. "He's my friend," is all he says, and he shrugs. And then they ask _why_ I'm his friend and Stan just says, "Kyle's cool. You just don't know him." And I get this warm feeling in my chest after he says it, and I don't care that everyone likes Stan better. Hell, even _I_ like Stan better than I like myself. I can't really blame other people for feeling the same way.

"Have you tried the punch, Kyle?"

I turn my head to see Kenny standing next to me, two cups of red liquid in each of his hands.

"What did you do to it?" I ask, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

Kenny sighs, flipping his bangs out of his eyes with a languid toss of his head. "Nothing, dude. I'm not going to get shitfaced at Stan's party while his relatives are still here." He rolls his eyes and takes a long sip, leaning against the wall next to me. I take the cup of punch from him and take a taste. It's good.

A somewhat uncomfortable silence grows between Kenny and I as we stand against the wall together, at the edge of the party. Everyone knows that Kenny isn't going to college. Honestly, I think it's practically a miracle he graduated from high school. Anyway, he told us (Stan and me) that he didn't know where he was going, but that he knew he was getting out of South Park, which I think is a good idea for him. His future isn't as terrible as it could be, but I understand his bitterness at the situation. It must be hard knowing that all of his closest friends are going off to college but he's not. I feel really uncomfortable and strangely guilty thinking about it.

Luckily, Stan comes over and joins us against the wall.

"Shouldn't you be mingling?" I ask him, smiling slightly.

"Just taking a short break," he tells me. "I don't even recognize half of these people anyway." Neither do I. It seems that, for some reason or another, all of a person's relatives feel it is their obligation to attend a graduation party, even if they've never been a part of that person's life. I know that my party will be the same way - having to talk to tons of relatives I don't know and pretend I give a fuck until they decide to go home. I considered not even having a party at all to avoid the hassle, but mother insisted.

"Stan!" Mrs. Marsh yells. "Come say hello to your Aunt Mary!"

Stan sighs. "Coming!" he yells.

He stomps off to visit with his Aunt, leaving me and Kenny alone once again. "I need more punch," Kenny mentions offhandedly. I look down at his cup. It is indeed empty. "Be right back," he says. I watch him walk away for a few moments before going back to observing the party.

I get the feeling that someone is looking at me. I turn my head and see Cartman walking towards me. Please don't be coming over here...

"What's up, midget?"

I was going to ignore him so that hopefully he would get bored and go away, but, somehow, that's just impossible.

"I am _not_ a midget!" I yell at him. Goddammit Cartman! He _knows_ that I'm sensitive about my height!

"Yes you are," he laughs. "What are you, like five foot three? You're a little midget Jew." He's smirking at me like he wants me to explode at him. He probably does, actually, and I am completely ready to explode, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Plus, we really shouldn't cause a scene at Stan's party. I close my eyes and turn away. My urge to punch him in his fucking face lessens slightly.

"Fuck off, Cartman," I tell him in as calm a voice as I can manage.

"Come on, Kyle, I didn't mean it," Cartman says in a sickly sweet voice. "You're actually normal height if you take your ginger fro into account." He laughs at his own stupid joke.

"Very funny. Why don't you go bother someone else?"

"Maybe I will," he says, but I know he won't. If one thing hasn't changed over the years, it's the fact that Eric Cartman still finds immense pleasure in pissing me off. He doesn't even have to try very hard.

"Anyway, you should be thanking me, Jew. If I wasn't here you would be standing here all alone like the loser you are."

"I'm not a loser, Stan's just busy with relatives," I say.

"Look again, Jew," Cartman scoffs. I follow his gaze and see Stan talking with Wendy and some of his football friends. And fuck my life, but that actually does hurt my feelings a little bit.

"Whatever, fat ass," I mutter, shoving my fists into my pockets. This only causes Cartman to laugh. It's a stupid thing to call him because he's not even that fat anymore, but old habits die hard, I guess. Still, it's pointless because it doesn't piss Cartman off anymore, since it's not true.

Don't get the wrong idea, though. It's not like Cartman finally grew up and decided that he should stop eating like a fucking starving troll all the fucking time. He might say that's what really happened, but the true story is actually a lot funnier. Here it is:

During our freshman year of high school, Cartman was sent to the hospital because of a clogged artery. A clogged artery at fourteen, imagine that! Anyway, I guess he almost died or something, and so his mom forced him to go on a diet and join sports teams in high school so that he would get some exercise. Cartman hated it, of course. His mom wouldn't let him have any junk food whatsoever until he finally trimmed down. She only bought healthy foods to keep in the house and if she caught Cartman eating junk she grounded him for a week. She even called mine and Stan's parents and told them that he wasn't allowed to eat snacks when he was with us. It was so fun eating in front of Cartman during that time. He would get so mad. Those were the good old days.

He started playing football and hockey in high school, but he still complained that he was hungry all the time, so he had stomach surgery where they shrunk his stomach. I don't know all the details, but apparently it helps him eat less. Anyway, the exercise and eating less actually worked, and it didn't hurt that he grew about a foot, either, so now he's actually not that fat anymore, even though he's still really big. At least a head taller than me, anyway.

He's not on his forced diet anymore, of course. He just tells me "it's all about portion control, Kyle," like he's really fucking smart and wasn't forced by his mother to lose some weight. He really is a fucking fat ass, even if he doesn't look like one anymore. He's still standing next to me, though he isn't talking, thank God. The silence isn't awkward, though. I suppose that despite our competitive nature and the fact that we argue all the time and he constantly belittles my religion, we have remained friends, or at least as close to friends as we will ever be.

Stan's relatives are finally leaving. It's about time. I wonder where Kenny got off to because he never did end up coming back, but he probably got distracted by Bebe's breasts or something. It's getting pretty late once all of Stan's relatives are gone, so we go out to Stan's backyard and create a bonfire. We all sit around it, making smores and telling stories, and I'm finally having a good time.

"So you'll never guess what happened," Cartman says loudly, getting our attention.

"Do we even _want_ to know?" I scoff, but he ignores me.

"Three very lucky people here," he begins, pointing out into the crowd of teenagers around the fire, "Are going to be coming with me on a cruise trip for two weeks!"

There's silence. That is not what I was expecting him to say. "Um... what?" Stan asks.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Cartman sighs, "I won a trip! On a cruise! And I get to take three other people with me."

"Sounds suspicious..." I mutter quietly. "How did you win this trip, Cartman?"

"It doesn't matter how I won the trip, Kyle," he tells me in a petulant voice, crossing his arms.

"He probably did something illegal," Wendy says.

"Hey! It was not illegal! And you're definitely not coming on the trip, so don't even ask, hippy!"

"Well good, cause I don't want to go anyway!" she yells back. "Who would want to go on a trip with you anyway?"

"I would," Stan says offhandedly. We (Wendy and I) look at him like he's lost his mind. I think he might have.

"Yeah, it'd be fun," Kenny agrees. "I've never been on a cruise before."

"Wait, wait." I jump in. "We are not seriously considering going on a cruise with Cartman. I mean, it's _Cartman_."

"Fuck you!" He tells me. "I don't want you to come anyway, you stupid Jew!"

I open my mouth to reply but Stan puts his hand on my arm and says, "Can we please not fight about this now? Come on guys, we just graduated. Let's relax!" I sigh but don't say anything. I don't want to get into an argument anyway. But seriously, what is Cartman thinking? And even worse, Stan? He definitely has some explaining to do tomorrow, cause I know one thing for sure: there is no way I am going on a cruise ship with Eric Cartman.

No fucking way.


	2. Don't Make Shit Rhyme

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Two: Don't Make Shit Rhyme**

"What do you _mean_, you think it's a good idea?"

"I just think it could be fun! It's our last summer together, after all, -"

"Yes, exactly! And you want to spend two weeks of it on a cruise ship vacation with _Cartman_?"

It's the day after graduation, and Stan and I are arguing in his room.

"Dude, Kyle, calm down! Why is it such a big deal?"

"Because - " I stutter. "Because it's Cartman!" Why can't Stan see the problem with this? "Why would Cartman invite us to go on a cruise with him? He's obviously planning something! And I don't want to be a part of it."

"He's inviting us because we're his friends! And I'm sure he's not planning anything. He only did that when we were kids."

"I can't believe I'm even considering this," I say, finally calming down a bit. I guess I understand where Stan is coming from. And it _would_ be kind of cool to go on a cruise... "Well you heard Cartman earlier, he said he doesn't want me to come anyway."

"You know he didn't mean that," Stan says. "He just said it cause he was angry that you didn't want to go."

I roll my eyes and agree. "Do you really want to?" I ask Stan, knowing that I'll agree to whatever he says. I kind of have to, don't I? It _is_ our last summer together after all.

Stan smiles. "Yeah. And it wouldn't be fun without you there, so you have to come, too."

This makes me smile. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. "All right, let's go talk to him."

I must be out of my mind.

- KB -

"I'm glad you changed your mind, Kyle," Cartman says, handing me a brochure. Stan, Kenny, and I are sitting in Cartman's kitchen, looking at the cruise information. Stan and I joined Kenny over here to talk about the trip after I finally agreed to go.

"This is awesome!" Kenny says.

"Yeah, this is the only vacation you'll ever get to go on," Cartman says.

"Don't be an asshole, Cartman," Stan says calmly, looking at the pictures.

"So this whole trip is completely free?" I clarify.

"Of course the Jew is worried about money," Cartman mutters under his breath. "Yes, Kyle, the whole trip is completely free. I won it, remember?"

"Yes, but you didn't say how you won it or why. So you see why I'm a bit suspicious."

"Well I think it's awesome," Stan says. "It's a good way for the four of us to hang out before we have to leave. For old time's sake, you know?"

"Hell yeah!" Kenny says, and I grudgingly admit that it is pretty cool.

"Okay, let's talk about the details," I say, my Type A tendencies showing through. Cartman pulls out an elaborate chart and begins to explain.

"I'm only going through this once so shut the fuck up and listen." Cartman clears his throat. "The ship leaves in two days from a port in New Jersey, and then -"

"Wait, so we have to take a plane to get to New Jersey first before we even go on the cruise? Why didn't -"

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME, KYLE!"

"Fine!" I say. Cartman's lucky that Stan and Kenny want to go on this trip with him.

"As I was saying," Cartman begins again, "The ship leaves in two days from a port in New Jersey, and then we'll spend two days of the trip crossing the Atlantic Ocean. On the third day we'll reach Spain and we'll spend three days there." He points to a picture of Spain on a map. I want to ask him how we'll pay for hotels and food and whatnot while we stay inland but I refrain.

"After that we'll get back on the ship and spend the rest of the trip visiting various islands in the Caribbean Sea. On the last day we'll dock at a port in Florida and we'll take a plane back to South Park."

I can't refrain myself any longer. "But how are we going to -"

"I am not done, Kyle. Please hold any further questions until the end," Cartman says in his fake sweet voice. I sigh but shut my mouth.

"All travelling expenses will be paid for in full. This includes the plane rides, the cruise ship fee, and also hotels. You will only need to bring spending money for recreation and food while we are visiting inland or on the islands. Does that answer your questions, Kyle?"

"Yeah, but - how? What kind of contest did you win that this is your prize? We're talking about a lot of money here!"

"Yes, I know, and I would rather have taken it all in cash, but they said it was either this or nothing. Stop asking stupid questions and just accept the fact that I'm being generous enough to allow you to come with me on this amazing trip instead of inviting someone else."

"Yeah, dude," Kenny says. "Who cares how he got it? I'm going to Spain!"

"Don't worry about it, Kyle," Stan adds in. "Let's just have fun."

"Aren't you worried why he won't tell us?" I ask Stan quietly.

"I'm sure he has his reasons. Come on, dude. I don't want Cartman to change his mind and invite Butters or something."

I sigh. "Okay, whatever. But I might not be able to go, anyway."

"What do you mean?" They all look at me.

"We're forgetting about one important thing." Cartman quirks an eyebrow at me. "My mother."

"Fuck," Stan agrees.

- KB -

I decide not to tell my mom about the trip until after my graduation party. It's scheduled for this evening from three to seven, and right now my family is getting everything ready. The tent is being set up in the backyard, the tables and chairs are being delivered from the rental company, and I'm in the kitchen with my mother, getting the food ready. I'm a shit cook, so all I'm allowed to do is organize the various platters of food. So far I've arranged the vegetable tray and the cheese, cracker, and meat tray, and am now working on the fruit tray. It's boring but I have to help in some way.

I think about the best way to tell my mom I'm going on a trip with Eric Cartman (whom she despises) while I arrange the sliced strawberries next to the sliced kiwi. Should I ask if I can go, or simply tell her that I am? It won't cost her anything, after all. And, I am eighteen now - officially an adult. I should be able to make my own decisions. But if I do that she might get defensive, so maybe it would be better if I ask after all... I know for sure that I'll do it when dad is there. He can always calm mom down, and I'm sure he'll help me out...

I arrange the pineapple on the other side of the strawberries, and spend a moment deciding if I should put cantaloupe or grapes next to the pineapple. I choose the cantaloupe. Fuck it, it doesn't matter anyway. I just want to get this stupid party over with. I finish the fruit tray and tell mom that I'm going to help dad and Ike with the decorations. We have balloons and color-coordinated table cloths and napkins and plates. It's really nothing too fancy. I'm only expecting a few friends to come, along with the relatives, of course.

Stan comes early to help us finish setting up. It's almost three so we've started putting out the food. Mom has made various traditional Jewish dishes, including brisket, kugel, and my personal favorite, lekach. Yum... (Cue sarcasm here.)

"So did you ask your mom yet?" Stan asks me.

"Not yet, dude. I'll do it after the party."

Stan nods and I see that some of my relatives have started arriving. "Kyle!" Mom calls. "Come say hello!"

"God dammit," I sigh. Stan gives me a sympathetic smile.

I spend the next four hours talking with my relatives and smiling and generally pretending to have a good time. I say "pretending" to have a good time because, really, who actually _wants_ to waste their time talking to old people who are only there for the food and who I won't see for the rest of the year? Or maybe I'm wrong and I'm just a complete asshole. I guess that's possible.

Surprisingly, the highlight of my evening is a conversation with Cartman. He comes by about an hour after the party started (even though I don't remember inviting him) and he goes on and on about the Jewish food. I actually don't mind that much since his complaining allows me to escape from my relatives for a while.

"And what's this one, Kyle?" Cartman asks as he points to a potato dish.

"It's called Latkes. It's a potato pancake."

"Interesting..." Cartman says. "And what about this?" he points to another dish further down along the table.

"That's Mandelbrodt. It's like baked almond bread." We continue to do this with all the Jewish dishes my mother has prepared. Normally I would be extremely annoyed by his questioning and derogatory remarks but right now it's a welcome distraction.

"What the hell is this?!" Cartman almost yells, and I can't help but laugh.

"That's Kishke, otherwise known as beef intestines."

Cartman is so appalled that he can't even speak. His facial expression is hilarious. I'm laughing so hard that my stomach actually aches.

"That's disgusting," Cartman says.

"I know," I agree, still chuckling. I'm surprised that he didn't come up with anything more offensive to say. He must really be in shock. My mom calls me over to say hello to someone else, so I leave Cartman by the food. I look back at him a few seconds later and he's still just standing there with this appalled expression on his face.

I burst out laughing.

- KB -

A little bit after seven my relatives are finally saying goodbye. After they've all gone, I help clean up all the food and garbage and I throw away the decorations and help fold up the chairs and tables. I tell Stan and Kenny that I'm going to tell my parents about the trip now, so they decide to go home. Mom and dad are in the kitchen cleaning dishes; mom's washing and dad's drying.

"That was a really great party. Thanks mom and dad," I say, buttering them up a bit.

"You're welcome, Kyle," dad says. "You know we're very proud of you."

"Yeah..." Well, here goes nothing. "Cartman invited Stand and Kenny and me to go on a trip with him this summer. He won it in a contest and it will be completely paid for so you won't have to spend a thing. It's a two week trip and we'd be leaving in two days and I really want to go it sounds like it'll be a lot of fun." I'm glad that I got all that out there without any interruptions.

I'm expecting my mom to explode at the mention of Cartman, but she just looks at me and says, "A trip, huh? And it will all be paid for?" She's quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it, and then she turns to dad and says, "Gerald, what do you think?"

I just stand there with my mouth open. Why is she being so cool about this? "I think it's a great idea!" Dad says, of course. "It will be a good chance for Kyle to be with his friends before they leave for college."

"That's a good point, Gerald," Mom says, turning back to the dishes. "I don't see why you can't go," she tells me. "As long as we know all the details, of course."

I have no idea why she's not putting up more of a fight, but right now I'm not going to question it. "Yes, of course! Thank you so much! Let me go get the brochure!" I rush upstairs to my bedroom and am back in record time. I help with the dishes until they're done, and afterwards I tell them all about the trip. I can't believe that getting permission was this easy!

Knowing my mother, she'll probably expect me to do something for her in return. But oh well. I'll deal with that when the time comes.

I thank both of them profusely and rush over to Stan's house to tell him.

"That's great, dude!" he says, and I actually start to feel excited about this trip. It does sound pretty awesome. Going on a cruise to Spain, then to the Caribbean... Who cares if Cartman is plotting something? We all know Cartman's plans never work out anyway...

- KB -

The next day, the day before we'll take a plane to New Jersey, Stan and Kenny and I spend our time together going to various graduation parties throughout the day. We start with Craig's, where we stay only very briefly, then move on to Tweek's for a short period of time. Butters is being punished for being third in the class and therefore didn't have a party, and no one has seen him since the ceremony, either, but we're not worried. He'll be fine.

The three of us spend much too long (in my opinion) at Wendy's graduation party later in the afternoon. But, well, she _is_ Stan's girlfriend, so Kenny and I endure it for him. Lastly, of course, we're scheduled to go to Cartman's graduation party, which of course has to be the Best Party Ever. We get there at about seven o'clock and the party is in full swing.

There's a live band playing music and a trampoline in the middle of his backyard, and I can even see a chocolate fountain near the refreshments table.

A fucking chocolate fountain. Some things never change.

"Hello, butt pirates!" Cartman says as he walks up to us. "Please, come in, come in. Enjoy the food and entertainment."

Stan and Wendy (who joined us after her own party was over) leave to go dance together and Kenny mysteriously disappears, probably to find a girl or something, which leaves me with the fat ass. He leads me further into the party and goes right to the chocolate fountain.

"What do you think of this, Kyle?" he asks me, looking all proud of himself.

I want to put him down, but, well, the chocolate fountain actually _is_ pretty fucking sweet. I'm not going to tell him that, though, so instead I say, "Where'd you get all the money to afford this stuff, Cartman?"

He dodges the question by saying, "I have my ways." He doesn't look me in the eye when he says it, and I know he's lying, but why do I care anyway? Maybe he's just using whatever he had saved up for his college fund. I don't know. Either way, we both turn our attention to the chocolate fountain and take turns sticking various foods into it. I use normal foods that would taste good with chocolate, like strawberries and pretzels, but Cartman tries a bunch of other foods with it that make me slightly sick and make me laugh at the same time.

For example, he takes a barbecued meatball and dunks it in the fountain before eating it, then a cube of marble jack cheese, and worst of all, a spoonful of potato salad! I'm grossed out but I laugh when he gets a bit green in the face after that one.

"You dumb ass!" I say. "Did you actually think that would taste good?"

"Well it's still better than your stupid Jewish food!" he retorts, which makes me think about my party yesterday, and I only laugh harder.

Cartman lumbers off to go talk with some relatives and I find Kenny and chat with him for the rest of the party. He's really excited about going on the trip with us, and I'm happy for him. Still, I can't stop myself from voicing my opinions.

"But don't you think it's weird, Ken? I mean, Cartman wins this huge vacation and it's for four people and he won't tell us why or how he won it? Don't you think it sounds suspicious?"

"Come on, Kyle! Don't ruin it for me!" Kenny whines.

"You're right," I say. "I just think it's weird. I mean, this is _Cartman_ we're talking about here. He's just _allowing_ us to go with him? He's not even making us pay him back or call him the master of the universe or anything!" I'm quiet for a moment. "Maybe it's not so weird for you and Stan because he actually likes you guys, but for me? He hates me! He must be planning something..."

Kenny just looks at me like I'm a complete idiot and I say, "What?" and he just shakes his head.

"Cartman isn't planning anything," he finally says. He gets up off of the grass where we're sitting and looks down at me. "Please don't ruin this vacation by being suspicious all the time." Then he walks away, leaving me feeling a little bit guilty.

Okay, I've decided that I'll try my best not to ruin this trip. It's just hard because it's Cartman, and he's always planning something, so... But Kenny's right. I don't want to ruin it for him and Stan. And who knows, maybe Cartman has finally grown up and is actually just being a good friend?

... Yeah, I don't believe it for a second.


	3. Would It Be Easy To Repeat The First

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Three: Would It Be Easy To Repeat the First Line? **

I could hardly sleep the night before, I was so wound up about the upcoming trip. At the end of Cartman's graduation party last night the four of us talked about our plans for today. We agreed we would pack our suitcases in the early morning and meet at Cartman's house right after so that his mom can drop us off at the airport. When I asked Cartman about the tickets for our airfare and the cruise ship he told me he had it covered so I'm trying not to worry about that, even though a small part of me is alarmed that we'll get to New Jersey and be stuck there as some part of a cruel joke by Cartman...

Anyway, once we get to New Jersey we'll board the ship right away. The plane ride is non-stop, which I'm thankful for because the hassle of catching connecting flights could potentially cause a lot of problems, especially for four teenage boys. At this moment I am currently packing my suitcase with clothes and toiletries. So far I've packed all the underwear and socks that I own, along with shorts, tee shirts, and two swimming trunks. I get all my bathroom stuff together in a bag and put it in there too, although I don't bring shampoo or any liquid that the security guards at the airport would confiscate. I pack all of my remaining insulin just to be safe (I don't know what could happen!) and I also throw in my South Park Cows sweater. (Fuck off, I get cold easily!)

Hmm, what else to bring? I've never been on an extended vacation before. If I forget something I can always buy it anyway I suppose... I look at the clock - time to go! I lug my one large suitcase, and my backpack, down the stairs and I'm barely past the kitchen when mom calls me back.

"Kyle? Come here for a moment, please."

I sigh but turn around and enter the kitchen.

"Hi, mom," I greet cheerfully.

"Good morning, Kyle." She smiles at me. She's sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper spread out in front of her, a piece of toast in her hand. "Are you all packed and ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Did you remember everything?"

"Yes."

"Your insulin?"

"Yes!" I say. Like I would forget my own insulin!

"Don't raise your voice at me, young man!" she says, and I wince.

"Sorry."

"Hmm." She takes a bite of toast. "I trust you understand that your father and I are being very accepting of this trip you're going on. We are showing a lot of trust in you, Kyle."

I nod. Oh, great. Here it comes.

"In return, I fully expect you to consider what we've been discussing concerning your schooling." I barely manage not to groan. "And I also expect your grades to be in top shape next year." She turns her attention back to the newspaper. "That's all. Have fun on your trip, darling."

"Thanks, mom," I say, only slightly sarcastically, as I take my suitcase again and head to Stan's house.

Great. So my mom pretty much just told me that I have to be a lawyer now. Well, fuck her! Seriously... But that's just how she is, how she always has been, and how she always will be. She does something for someone else - in this case, allowing me to go on vacation with my friends - and she expects payment in return.

I hate to ever agree with anything Cartman says, but when my mom pulls shit like this, I just can't help it. Cartman's right, my mom really is a bitch.

- KB -

"I'll miss you, muffin cake! Have a good trip! Mommy loves you!"

"Yeah, bye, mom!" Cartman yells over the snickering.

The four of us have just been dropped off at the airport by Ms. Cartman. She is one of my favorite parents - I crack up every time she calls Cartman names like "muffin cake" or "sugar lump." And he can't do anything about it.

"Shut up, you guys, it's not that funny," Cartman says as we make our way to the check-in.

"Yeah it is, dude." Stan laughs. "She does know you're eighteen now, right?"

"Of course she knows I'm eighteen! Goddammit!"

The check-in line for baggage is like over a mile long, so we prepare ourselves to wait. Stan and Kenny are looking at one of Kenny's magazines as we move slowly up the line. Finally curiosity gets the better of me and I break the silence between me and Cartman.

"So... Cartman, why are you being so nice, dude?" It's hard for me to say.

Cartman raises his eyebrows. "Me? Nice? How the hell did you figure that one out?"

For some reason I feel a bit embarrassed. "I just mean taking us on this trip. It's unlike you. You're not expecting us to pay you back, are you?"

"No, Kyle, you don't have to pay me back." He rolls his eyes. "Can't a guy just go on a trip with his friends? Plus, I won this, so it's free for me, too."

"True," I agree. "It's still weird though."

Cartman just sighs and crosses his arms.

It's a good thing we got to the airport a little bit early because this line is taking _forever._ It's just about time to board our plane by the time it's our turn, and then we're withheld momentarily because Cartman wants to bring his own food on the plane.

"Sorry, sir, no food on the plane."

"Why the fuck not?" Cartman complains. "I don't want to eat shitty airplane food!"

"Just come on, Cartman!" Stan says, "Our plane is leaving soon!"

"Fucking Christ," Cartman mutters. "Fine! Fine, I'm coming." He flicks off the security people and follows us to the terminal.

"Dude, one day you're going to get arrested." Stan says.

"Flight 642 for New Jersey is now boarding," a woman's voice comes on over the intercom.

"That's us," Cartman says. He rummages through his bag and produces four tickets.

"Sweet," Kenny says.

We get in line behind the other passengers and finally make our way onto the airplane. Our tickets say "second class" so we make our way further back in the plane. I'm glad I only brought my backpack as a carry-on so that I don't have to worry about any more bags. Cartman, of course, spends an inordinate amount of time stuffing his carry-on into the overhead compartment, swearing loudly. Luckily, this means he's the last to be seated, so he takes the aisle seat next to Kenny. I'm sitting in the window seat, next to Stan, and that's how it's going to stay the whole flight. Sorry, Kenny.

The flight attendant comes forward and tells us about the safety precautions and how to put on our oxygen masks and whatnot. Soon enough, the plane starts to move down the runway. I don't travel much, but there's something about the takeoff that amazes me. One moment, we're moving at breakneck speed on a runway, and the next we're soaring into the air, getting higher and higher. I watch as the ground falls farther and farther away from us, my ears popping all the way. Stan has leaned over me to see the view out the window and I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"Cool," he says, sitting back down in his seat.

"Totally," I agree. I get more comfortable in my own seat. "I think the last time I was on a plane was when my family went to Israel that one time," I ponder.

"Oh yeah, your mom made you go visit some holy place, right?" Stan laughs.

"Yeah." I shake my head. It was supposed to be a vacation, but it definitely wasn't fun.

The first half of the flight is pleasant. I sit and watch Stan play on his Nintendo DS and we get roasted peanuts and soda from the flight attendants. Cartman has been watching a movie on his portable DVD player the whole time so he hasn't bothered me, and Kenny... well, I'm not actually sure what Kenny has been doing. Him and Cartman are seated behind me and Stan, so I can't quite see what he's doing, but it looks like he's making some sort of list. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

I turn back around in my seat to find that the passenger in front of me has reclined her seat and is now snoring away, pretty much in my lap. Fucking great. Stan is oblivious with his game and I'm too... I don't know, polite, to wake her up, so I sit there for a while and watch the old woman sleep. Her hair is more white than gray and I can see the liver spots on her forehead, which is all wrinkly. Eesh, I am not looking forward to getting old.

Anyway, this old woman is reclining into my personal space which is actually getting quite annoying, and I don't know what to do. I mean, I could easily wake her up and tell her to sit up, but it's like I'm in one of those situations where I don't want to make a scene and honestly just can't be bothered to do anything about it, even if it is annoying me. I sigh and close my eyes, trying to pretend she's not there. Maybe I can take a small nap myself...

A loud snort interrupts me and I open my eyes again. Fuck this, I'm not even tired. Come on, Kyle, just wake her up! This is getting ridiculous...

"Excuse me, madam, your seat is reclining into my friend's personal space and he would like you to please sit up." Cartman says in his sweetest voice. He's standing in the aisle in front of me, talking to the old woman and her husband. The husband pats the woman's arm and she snorts, waking up.

"What?" she asks.

"I was wondering if you could please sit up in your seat. You are reclining into my friend's lap." The old woman looks behind her and stares at me. I give her a sheepish smile.

"Oh, sorry," she grunts, reclining forward again. I breathe a sigh of relief. Cartman sits back down and continues to watch his movie. I look back at him but he doesn't acknowledge me.

What the fuck? Did Cartman seriously just do something nice for me? Or maybe she was annoying him somehow? Either way, I am definitely confused. I look at Stan, who also looks confused, but he merely shrugs and goes back to his game. I'm not really in a talking mood, so I reach into my backpack for my IPOD, which I listen to for the remainder of the flight.

- KB -

Someone shoves at my shoulder and I sit up and open my eyes.

"What?" I ask blearily. Somehow I actually managed to fall asleep.

"We're here, dude!" Stan says excitedly, pointing out the window.

I look outside to see that the plane is indeed descending to the ground. "Awesome!" I reply as I stuff my IPOD into my backpack. I can feel Kenny practically bouncing up and down in his seat from excitement. The plane starts to shake as we get closer to the ground, and I hold on to the armrests as we finally come back down to earth. The wait to get off the plane isn't too long, and soon enough we're in the New Jersey airport on our way to collect our luggage. Once we have our luggage, we head to the front doors. We stop momentarily to make sure everything is accounted for. Somewhat surprisingly, it is. We've had no problems. _So far..._, my mind says traitorously.

I've never been to New Jersey before; it's pretty cool. I know we don't have time to walk around, though. Cartman screams for a taxi and we load our suitcases and extra bags into the trunk, forcing the lid to close. No one is allowed to sit in the front seat of the cab, so we all have to pile in the back. Cartman is definitely big enough to take up a whole seat by himself, so there's only room for two other people to sit comfortably. We come to a decision that someone is going to have to sit on someone else's lap. It's the only way we're all going to fit.

"I am not sitting on anyone's lap, Stan," I say, annoyed.

"But you're the smallest one, Kyle," Stan reasons.

"So? Kenny's not that much bigger than me."

"Not gonna happen, Kyle," Kenny says, shaking his head.

"Just hurry up, you guys, we have to go!" Cartman says from his seat in the cab.

Stan climbs into the cab after Cartman, sitting in the middle seat, and Kenny follows him.

"Come here, Kyle," Kenny says, patting his legs.

"Goddammit!" I yell. "I am not sitting on your lap, Kenny!"

"Sit on mine, then, Kyle," Stan says. "It's fine dude, we're best friends anyway. It's not like we haven't done weirder stuff."

I know this is true, but still... I just don't want to. I don't move.

"Get in here, Kyle," Cartman says, "Or else we'll just leave without you." He raises his eyebrows at me and I scowl.

_"Fine!"_ I throw my hands into the air and awkwardly crawl into the cab. "But just know that I am_ not_ happy about this."

I crawl over Kenny and awkwardly position myself over Stan's legs, not quite putting my full weight on him.

"Don't lie, you faggot Jew," Cartman says, smirking at me.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman," I say. Kenny closes the door and the cab starts moving.

"Just sit down, dude," Stan says.

"It's fine," I say, although my thighs are starting to ache from squatting like this. I see Cartman roll his eyes in the corner of my vision and next thing I know his hand is pulling me down by my shirt, and I fall into Stan's lap.

"Cartman!" I yell, embarrassed. I am fucking _sitting_ in Stan's lap. Could this get any more humiliating? My face is probably redder than a tomato.

"It's fine, Kyle," Stan says. He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Just relax, dude."

I cross my arms and face the front. I look at the bright side of the situation: at least I'm not sitting on _Cartman's_ lap.

I slowly forget my embarrassment as the cab drives through the streets of New Jersey, and I entertain myself by looking out the window. I lean over to look at a particularly tall building and when I look back down I notice that my hand has been resting on Cartman's thigh. I quickly remove it, thanking God that Cartman doesn't say anything. He's also looking out the window, so hopefully he didn't notice.

Stan's cell phone rings. He looks at the caller ID and answers it. "Hey, Wendy. Yeah, we're in New Jersey..."

Cartman rolls his eyes, and I share his sentiments. I'm a little bit surprised that Wendy didn't demand that she be allowed to come on the trip, so as to not be separated from Stan. Luckily, though, she hates Cartman just as much as Cartman hates her, which is a lot. Even more than he hates me. I'm just glad that Wendy isn't on the trip with us, so I decide that I won't complain about how much I know she'll be talking on the phone with Stan over these next two weeks, even if it is extremely annoying.

I mean, come on, the two of them have had an on-again, off-again relationship throughout pretty much _their whole lives;_ you'd think that they'd have gotten bored of each other by now or something? When I talk to Stan about it he says that I don't understand since I've never been in love before. And he's right; I never have been in love before. I just haven't had time for it, that's all. I'm sure I'll find a nice girl friend in college.

And it's not like I'm the only one. I glance at Kenny. Well, Kenny has had plenty of relationships (with pretty much every girl in school except Wendy) but I'm sure he's never actually been in love with any of them. He's just horny. I turn my attention to Cartman, who is more of a conundrum. Like me, he hasn't had a girlfriend, but unlike me, he actually got some offers. I know because I hear Wendy talking about it with Stan on those occasions when the three of us are hanging out together.

"I can't believe that she actually likes Cartman!" Wendy would say. "He's such an asshole. When she asked him to go to the dance, her told her that he would rather eat his own shit. I mean, who actually says that?"

It's weird to think about because one would think that Cartman would be pining for the ladies. But he probably thinks in some twisted way that South Park girls aren't good enough for him. He's probably interested in older women or something...

"You're staring, Kyle," Cartman's voice penetrates my thoughts. I blink and realize that for the past few minutes I have indeed been looking at Cartman, though not really _looking_ at him, just thinking while looking in his direction.

Despite myself, I'm actually curious. "Do you like older women, Cartman?" Wow. That sounded really weird. I feel my cheeks heat but I don't look away.

"What?" he laughs. "Why would you think that?"

I shrug and drop the topic, noting to myself that he didn't actually answer the question. But whatever.

"We're here," the taxi driver says as he pulls up to the curve.

Kenny gets out of the cab first and I slide off of Stan's lap after him. "I'll call you later, Wendy, bye." I hear Stan say before following me. I take a moment to admire the sight of the ocean. It's officially evening - a little after six - and the sun has started to go down. The orange colors dance off the ocean waves and make the beach look warm and inviting.

We get our luggage and start walking towards the port where we can see a huge cruise ship in the water. There is a crowd of people waiting to get on.

"This is so awesome!" Kenny says. His excitement is infectious. We get in line with the other passengers and wait to board the monstrous ship.

And it really is monstrous. It's definitely the biggest ship I've ever seen, including the ones from television. They could fit a whole theme park on this thing! As we get closer to boarding, Cartman rummages through one of his bags.

"Here are the tickets," he says, handing one to each of us. I see with relief that we are in second class, which is only one level below deck. It would have sucked balls if we were in steerage or something like that, way in the bowels of the ship. The room number on the tickets is all the same, so we're sharing a room, which makes sense. I just hope there's enough room for all of us to sleep.

When it's finally our turn to board, we go through an inspection to make sure that we're not sick so that we don't infect a whole boat full of people. That would be very bad. We each pass the inspection and we run up the ramp that leads to the entrance of the cruise ship. Entering the ship is like stepping into a new world. Everything is bright and clean and _new_.

"Oh hell yes," Kenny says, looking around.

"Sweet," Cartman adds.

"Kick ass," Stan agrees.

And even I chip in, "This is gonna be awesome."


	4. My Mind's Not A Well

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Four: My Mind's Not A Well **

The four of us decide to find our room first and settle in before exploring the ship. We have an interior room, which means that we don't have a window, but that's all right. We finally locate the room and Cartman opens it with a card key.

"Is that the only key we have?" I ask.

"Yep," Cartman says. "So don't piss me off or else I won't let you in."

"Ha, ha," I say. I'm not sure if he's joking, though.

Our room is nicely furnished with cream colored walls, bright lighting, two closets, two dressers, and... two beds.

"There's only two beds," I say.

"Of course there are only two beds," Stan says. "This is a ship, Kyle. There's only so much space." He smiles at me. "Anyway, let's come back later. I want to check out the ship."

Kenny and Cartman agree, so we leave our unpacked suitcases in the room and go out to explore. Stan finds a map of the ship along with a description of all of its features. The brochure also has meal times and other times of special planned activities.

"According to this, dinner is in an hour," Stan reads. "In the dining room."

"Good, cause I'm starving," Cartman says. I roll my eyes, although I'm quite hungry as well.

"I wonder when we're going to start moving," Kenny ponders.

"Probably not for a while," I say. "They have to make sure everyone is on board."

We walk around until it's time for dinner. We don't go any lower into the ship, since there's nothing but more rooms down there (our room is located on the second level below deck) so we only explore the deck level and what's above that, which is, admittedly, quite a lot. In fact, I don't even think we've seen half of the ship by the time we decide to go to the dining room.

The dining room is huge - as big as a gymnasium. The floor is covered in dark carpet and there is a large stage at the front of the room. Round tables with white tablecloths are situated throughout the whole room and along the sides are long tables of food. Members of the ship crew can be seen refilling the food platters every now and then.

"Buffet style," Cartman says. "Perfect."

By now my stomach is grumbling audibly. We quickly get in line at the buffet and take cutlery and a plate. There is a lot of food to choose from. There's chicken breasts, sliced turkey and ham and roast beef, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, corn, baked fish, hash-browns, salad, pasta with different sauces, deli sandwiches, and at the end, biscuits.

I take a bit of turkey and mashed potatoes (with gravy, of course) and corn and two biscuits. Cartman and Kenny's plates are so full that I'm worried something is going to fall off. We sit at an empty table in the center of the room. I'm wondering where to get a drink when a crew member comes to our table to get our drink orders.

I order milk to drink and happily dig into my food. It's delicious. I cut up my turkey and mix it together with my mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn. Then, I take a spoonful of the mixture and put it on a biscuit before eating it.

"Sick!" Cartman says from beside me, eyeing the biscuit with a frown.

I shrug. "I like the combination of flavors," I tell him. He just shrugs. "Plus, I'm not the one who has cranberry sauce slathered over everything," I say, looking pointedly at Kenny's plate across the table.

"Whatever, Kyle," Kenny smiles, laid back as usual.

"Yes, Kyle. Cranberry sauce is a delicacy that Kenny's family cannot afford which is why he's eating so much of it now," Cartman says.

Kenny just rolls his eyes and I try to hold back a smile. The room has really filled up with a lot of people and it's quite loud, making it hard to have conversation. Kenny and Cartman are arguing about something so I lean over and whisper to Stan, "I'm not sharing a bed with Cartman." It's been bothering me that there are only two beds. And since this is a ship it's not like we can request a roll-away bed or something like that.

"Neither do I," Stan whispers back. "And Kenny doesn't, either. But there's only two beds, so that means someone has to, unless you want to sleep on the floor." He raises an eyebrow at me. I shake my head no. "Yeah, I didn't think so," he says, putting a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth. "We'll just take turns," he says a few moments later. "It'll be fine." He thinks for a while. "Plus, what's with this aversion to the fat ass? I mean, I know you've never liked his company, but this is more extreme than usual."

I sigh. "I just can't shake the feeling that Cartman is up to something," I mutter. "Don't tell Kenny, though, cause I don't want to ruin the trip for him."

"Why do you think Cartman has foul intentions?"

I stare at him. "Because it's _Cartman!_ He doesn't do nice things for people. Okay, he does nice things for people, but then at the end it was all part of some big plan." I don't know why my voice sounds bitter.

"That was when we were kids," Stan urges. "I'm sure he's changed now." Kenny gets his attention and he turns away from me.

"Yeah, right," I say, sneaking a glance at Cartman from beneath my eyelashes. "I just don't believe it."

- KB -

After dinner we decide to go back to the room and go to bed. It's not late, but we're all tired from the long day of travelling. Right when we enter our room Stan says, "I'll bunk with Cartman tonight, but we're switching off." He looks at me pointedly, and I silently thank him for letting me have tonight.

We take turns getting ready for bed in the small bathroom connected to the room, and I lounge on the bed while I wait. The ship is so big that it hardly feels like we're moving at all, which I'm thankful for. There's nothing like getting sea sick to ruin a vacation. There's a television set against the wall across from the beds; Cartman is controlling the remote, of course. He has it tuned into a reality show - I think it's called the Bachelor. Basically, a guy dates a lot of pretty girls and finds his true love.

Right now the show is at the part where he tells a girl that she has to go home, basically rejecting her. The girl starts to cry, making Cartman laugh.

"You're not supposed to laugh, Cartman," I say, though I can't stop a smile from creeping onto my own face.

"What?" Cartman says, still chuckling. "This shit is hilarious!" His voice raises in pitch, mimicking the voice of the girl, "But I_ love_ you!" He starts laughing again. "What a fucking dumb ass!" He wipes imaginary tears from his eyes.

"At least she's hot," Kenny says from his position beside me.

"She's a tramp," Cartman says offhandedly.

The bathroom door opens. "Your turn, Kyle," Stan tells me.

"Thanks," I say as I get off the bed and grab my bag on the way to the bathroom. I brush and floss my teeth and try in vain to comb through my hair. It's pretty much impossible to do when it's not wet, though, so I give up. I take off all my clothes except for my boxers and my tee shirt and go to the bathroom one last time.

"Your turn, Kenny," I say as I open the door. I walk over to my suitcase and put my clothes and bathroom bag neatly inside it, closing the lid. I pull back the covers on the bed that I will be sharing with Kenny for the night, but I can feel someone's eyes on me, so I turn around. Stan is rummaging through his suitcase on the other side of the room, looking for something, and Cartman is looking at me. Staring at me.

"What?" I ask him, suddenly feeling self conscious. I'm only in my boxers and tee shirt, which might be weird, I guess, but that's what I always sleep in. It's comfortable. He better not say I have scrawny legs or something...

"Nothing," he shrugs, turning back to the television.

"Whatever," I say, climbing under the covers quickly. I turn on my side so that my back is facing Cartman, trying not to feel unsettled. The bed is surprisingly soft, and I feel my eyelids drooping. I feel rather than see Kenny get into the bed beside me. I burrow further into the covers.

"Night, Kenny," I sigh quietly.

I'm asleep before I hear his reply.

- KB -

I sleep the whole night without waking up. I love it when that happens. It's not often that I get an uninterrupted night of sleep, and it feels like I've been given a small gift whenever it happens. I'm only halfway awake - my eyes are still closed and I'm still in that happy sleepy state. I feel very warm and comfortable. It feels like I'm being cradled. Something is wrapped loosely around my waist and I can feel pressure against my back.

Wait... something around my waist? Warmth against my back? My eyes pop open as realization hits me. It's dark in the room, and I don't know what time it is due to the lack of windows, but I can see that I'm the only one awake. Kenny has rolled over onto my side of the bed (to be fair, they're only doubles so they aren't that big to begin with) and is spooning me. I don't move, but I can feel his arm wrapped around my torso, cradling me against his chest.

This is definitely a bit awkward, but I don't mind, since it's just Kenny. And now that I think about it, the fact that Kenny likes to cuddle doesn't surprise me. I close my eyes, deciding that I might as well try to fall back to sleep, since no one else is awake. I'm also hoping that Kenny will wake up eventually and stop spooning me so that I can pretend that it never happened. Otherwise, that's pretty awkward.

He hasn't moved though. If anything, he's only gotten closer. I can feel him nuzzling against the back of my neck. Kenny shifts his hips so that he's pressed against my back. I freeze. What the fuck...?!

I quickly scramble out of bed and land on the floor with a loud _thump_ and a yell. This effectively wakes every one up.

"Kyle?" Stan mumbles sleepily, looking down at me.

"Sorry," I say, standing up. "I fell out of the bed." I can see Cartman squinting at me through the darkness. I'm definitely glad that I got up before him. If he saw me and Kenny cuddling he would definitely get the wrong idea. He already calls me a fag enough as it is; I don't need to give him an actual reason to mock me. Kenny is still asleep, but I refuse to climb back into bed with him while he's got morning wood, so I head to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

I'm not grossed out or anything (I know Kenny is as straight as a pole), it just surprised me to feel something very... firm... against my backside. But it's no big deal. Everyone gets a morning stiffy now and then. I brush my teeth and use the bathroom, then realize that I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me in my haste. I go back out into the room. Stan is just getting out of bed and Cartman is stretching. Cartman walks past me into the bathroom and I go over to my suitcase, opening the lid.

"What time is it?" I ask Stan, taking off my shirt.

"A little bit after eight," he says. "Let's go down to breakfast. Wake Kenny up."

I put on a clean tee shirt and walk over to the bed. "Wake up, Kenny," I say, nudging his shoulder.

He mumbles something blearily and goes back to sleep.

"Come on, Kenny..." I urge. No response.

"WAKE UP!" I yell loudly, startling Stan and causing Kenny to roll out of the bed with a surprised yelp.

"Oww," Kenny moans from his position on the floor. "I think you broke my penis."

"You'll live," I say, laughing. "Come on, we're going to breakfast soon." This causes Kenny to get moving, and he hobbles to the bathroom when Cartman leaves.

I don't know if there will be anyone coming to clean up our room, so I make the beds to look busy. I'm not ashamed of my body, but I don't want to get completely naked to change in front of Stan and Cartman (or in front of anyone, really). It was fine when we were kids, but now it would just be weird. Of course, when Kenny is done with the bathroom it's Stan's turn, so I have to wait even longer. I pretend to organize my suitcase.

I pick out a clean pair of boxers, socks, and shorts to change into. I surreptitiously fill a syringe with insulin and hide it under my clothes as I head into the bathroom after Stan comes out. I quickly inject myself and toss the needle away. I'm not embarrassed that I have to do it because of my diabetes, I just don't want it to be a big deal. I put my fresh clothes on and we finally head to breakfast.

"We were talking while you were in the bathroom," Stan begins. "There's _tons_ of cool stuff we can do on the ship. We were thinking that we could go to the water park, and Cartman wants to go to the IMAX theater. Kenny wants to go to the casino," he adds after a moment.

By now we've reached the dining room and are filling up our plates at the breakfast buffet. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ken," I tell him, looking over Stan's shoulder.

"It'll be fun, Kyle," he says. "Plus, I won't use all my spending money. And maybe I'll win!"

Yeah, that's what they all think. But I don't say anything more. Kenny is an adult. He can spend his money however he likes.

I'm never very hungry in the morning, so I just get a bagel with cream cheese and some fruit to eat.

"That's all you're taking?" Cartman asks me when we find a table and sit down.

"I'm not that hungry," I say, eyeing his plate, which is full of scrambled eggs and sausage links and syrupy pancakes. "Not all of us are fat asses," I add on, almost as an afterthought.

"I'm not a fat ass," Cartman grunts at me, his mouth full of pancake.

I spread my bagel with cream cheese and ignore him for the remainder of breakfast.

After we're done eating, we go out to the deck of the ship to enjoy the view. There are people _everywhere_. It's hard to find an open space against the guard rail, but eventually we do, and the four of us look out at the ocean as we plan our day.

It's extremely windy out here, but I don't mind for once. It's sunny and warm, the ocean smells salty and fresh, and I'm on a cruise with my friends. Life is good. And for once I don't allow myself to think any negative thoughts.

We decide that we'll go to the IMAX presentation first, since the first showing is soon, at ten o'clock. Then we'll have lunch and go to the water park (yes, there's a fucking _water park_ on the cruise ship, I know it's insane), and then we'll relax before dinner. And, lastly, we'll visit the casino (because Kenny won't take no for an answer). Seems like a good plan to me.

The IMAX presentation is _Star Wars in 3D HD_, which we've all seen before, of course, but it was still worth the time, cause the special effects in the IMAX were kick ass. We head to the water park after changing into our swimming trunks back in the room. The park is big - there's water slides, a large swimming pool, a lazy river, a wave pool, and a place for sunbathers.

"How the hell did they make a lazy river on a cruise ship?" I wonder aloud, looking at the people floating languidly on their tubes.

"Who cares, dude? It's awesome!" Stan exclaims. "Let's check out those slides first!" There are water slides for one person at a time, which are my least favorite because they're fucking terrifying, and there's also a slide where people sit on a tube together and ride down. That's my favorite. We go on it a couple times. Stan makes me go on the biggest slide which is so steep I swear it's a ninety degree angle drop. I plummet down the slide at a thousand miles per hour, screaming like a little girl, and I shoot so deep into the water that my feet touch the bottom of the pool, which I don't think it supposed to happen.

Stan is laughing at me near the pool stairs as I make my way toward him (I made him go down the slide first).

"That was awesome," he laughs.

"I think I just shit my pants," is all I say. We both watch Cartman go down the huge slide after me. He screams just as much as I did and makes an enormous splash in the pool when he goes in.

"I hate you, Stan," he says when he trudges out of the pool, and Stan and I both start laughing at his injured expression.

The four of us take a break to eat lunch at a small outdoor restaurant in the water park. Kenny eyes some girls that he wants to go and talk to ("I might get lucky!") so Stan and Cartman and I decide to relax for a while in the lazy river.

I hold on to Stan's tube and Cartman holds on to mine, making a train. I close my eyes and immerse myself in Stan's chatter, leaning my head back and languidly kicking my legs in the water. The sun feels good on my arms and chest and stomach.

"And I don't get any cell service out here, so Wendy can't call me," Stan goes on.

"Hmm," I acknowledge.

Stan falls quiet, and the three of us drift along the lazy river in a comfortable silence, just soaking in the sunlight. I know I'll regret this later because I forgot to bring sunscreen, but right now I don't care. Even Cartman's presence isn't ruining the moment. I open my eyes and look at my two friends. Cartman smiles at me lazily. I feel... content.

I just hope it lasts.


	5. It Won't Run Dry

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Five: ****It Won't Run** **Dry **

After the lazy river, none of us feel like swimming, so we go and look for Kenny. We find him tanning in between two older girls who are probably in their twenties.

"We're gonna head out, Kenny," Stan says as we walk up to them.

"Already?" he asks, blinking. "Don't go. Stay and hang out." He gestures to the girls next to him. "This is Ashley and this is Amanda. They're sisters." He raises his eyebrows suggestively. I roll my eyes because it would actually be really awkward to have a threesome with two sisters.

"We're actually pretty tired, Ken, so we'll just go back to the room and chill until dinner. You can stay, though," Stan says.

"You're no fun," Kenny says. "What about you Kyle?" He smiles at me.

"No thanks." Yeah, like these girls would be interested in me anyway.

Cartman also declines an invitation to stay longer, and the three of us go back to the room, telling Kenny that we'll wait for him to come back before we go to dinner. We take turns showering and changing clothes in the tiny bathroom.

"I need to shave," Stan muses as he rubs his cheeks. I lean closer and see that he does indeed have a little bit of stubble.

"It's fine," I shrug. I feel my own cheeks. Nothing. And I've never grown a mustache, either. I guess some people just don't have facial hair. I have more than enough hair on the top of my head to make up for it, though. I look down. I do have some hair on my legs, but it's very fine and light in color (thank God). My chest is completely hairless, though. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Cartman turns on the television. "I wish I could have brought my XBOX," he says, flicking through the channels. I roll my eyes. He must see me do it out of the corner of his eye because he turns to me with a huff. "At least it would be something to do."

"Yeah, but you play XBOX enough at home. This is a vacation."

"Well right now I'm bored, which is why I want my fucking XBOX, Jew," he snaps. "It was just a statement."

"I didn't even say anything!" I protest.

"Well you were thinking it!"

"Guys, please," Stan says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Seriously, you argue about the dumbest things."

It's true. I guess we just can't help ourselves. Cartman finally stops changing channels and stops on the animal planet. We watch a show called _Animal Rescue._ A team of volunteers is trying to save a donkey that fell into a hole and can't get back out. Cartman is laughing his ass off. _  
_

"What a dumb ass donkey!" he yells.

"It's not the donkey's fault!" I yell back. "And it's not funny, so stop laughing!"

"Are you kidding?" he shoots back. "Of course it's the donkey's fault! It fell into a fucking hole in the ground!" he pauses to laugh some more, "And now it's stuck! Ahahahahahaha!"

"It is pretty funny, Kyle," Stan says, smirking.

I want to tell them both that they wouldn't be laughing if _they_ were stuck in a hole in the ground, but Kenny comes through the door at that exact moment.

"Finally!" Cartman laments. "I'm hungry, let's go eat."

We let Kenny change out of his swimsuit before going to the dining room. Tonight I load my plate with steak, hash browns, and string beans. As we sit down at a table Stan asks, "So, Kenny, how did things go with those girls?"

"Fine," Kenny says dismissively. "Yeah, they told me that they went on a cruise together just for fun so that they could have a vacation away from their _husbands_." He pulls a face and we all crack up laughing. "Yeah, they're married." Kenny looks disappointed. "I just wish they would have told me when I first started talking to them. A whole afternoon, ruined." He pauses to eat a french fry. "But I'm sure there will be plenty more! And I can't wait to meet Spanish girls!" He elbows Stan playfully.

"Shut up, Kenny," Stan laughs. "You know I have Wendy."

"Yeah, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Stan just rolls his eyes.

"Well, what about you, Kyle?" Kenny turns to me.

"What about me?" I ask around a mouthful of steak.

"Are you looking forward to meeting Spanish girls?"

"Um... sure."

"Come on, Kyle! Where's the excitement?"

"I just don't want to be with someone that I'll never see again!" I burst out. Shit. That sounds really lame. Now he's going to comment on the fact that I'm a virgin...

"Yeah," Cartman says, surprising me. "No one wants to fuck a common street whore."

"Fuck you, Cartman!" Kenny laughs, and the conversation is steered away, thankfully. Why does Kenny care if I get any ass on this trip, anyway? He needs to stop. I'm just not interested. In anyone. Yes, that does mean I'm a virgin at eighteen, but whatever. I know that Stan and Wendy are at it, and Kenny has been with pretty much every girl in school, but I just don't feel... right. I know that I don't necessarily need to have a relationship with a girl to sleep with her, but when the time comes I just don't feel it.

In high school I definitely didn't have time for a relationship with all the school work and clubs I was involved in, so sex definitely wasn't happening, either. So now that it's summer and I'm not in any clubs or doing any school work, I wonder if I'll finally get a girl friend. I'll definitely have time for one. Does that mean I'll lose my virginity some time this summer? That's weird to think about, especially at the dinner table...

I don't know who would be my girl friend, though. I know all the girls in South Park and I am not interested in any of them at all. So maybe I'll meet someone in college. But in college I'll be busy with even more classes and activities so I won't have time then, either. Mother fuck! What if I never get laid?!

"Kyle? Earth to Kyle?"

"Hmm?"

"Dude, are you okay? You seemed distracted there," Stan says from beside me.

"Oh I'm fine," I assure. "Just spacing out, I guess." There is no way I'm talking to anyone about my sex life (or lack of sex life), even to my super best friend Stan. He's been with Wendy for a long time so he wouldn't understand, anyway.

"Casino time!" Kenny yells once we're done eating.

"Yeah, we get it, Kenny," Cartman says. "The poor boy thinks he can win."

"I _can_ win!" Kenny replies. "You'll see."

We enter the casino, which is located on the second deck of the ship, and Kenny immediately flocks to the black jack tables. The lowest minimum bid table is five dollars, so we go there. We all play for a little while, but the dealer keeps getting really lucky so I stop after losing twenty dollars. I literally played for less than two minutes.

"Wow, that was really fun," I say sarcastically.

"That dealer was just lucky," Kenny says. "I'm moving to another table."

"Okay, have fun," Stan says. "I think I want to try out the slots." I tell him that the probability of actually winning something on a slot machine is pretty much slim to none but he tells me that his uncle Ned won big on a slot machine once, so I just roll my eyes and follow him.

Cartman goes to play roulette, which I have no clue how to play, so I sit with Stan at the slots and watch him lose.

"I told you, dude," I say after he's lost ten dollars to the Paradise Kiss slot machine.

Stan stops playing on the slots and we just sit there talking. I can see Cartman still playing roulette and Kenny is still at the black jack table. They look like they're having fun, but I'm pretty much bored out of my mind. I have no idea how people can spend more than a few hours here, tops. I just don't see what's so fun about losing money.

After about thirty minutes Cartman joins us at the machine.

"How'd you do?" Stan asks.

"Not bad." He shows us his stack of chips. "I'm gonna go cash these in."

"Of course Cartman wins," I grumble. "Let's go see how Kenny's doing. Maybe we can leave soon."

We join Kenny at his table and he tells us that he was doing well after losing at that first table, and that he almost won all his money back. He says he's still down ten dollars.

"Let's just leave now, then, dude, before you lose more," I say.

"I just want to break even," Kenny says. "That way there's no harm done. Just a few more hands."

Predictably, those few more hands turn into a yet a few _more hands_, and Kenny keeps losing more and more money.

"Fuck!" he says when the dealer gets twenty-one.

"Let's just go, Kenny," I whine. It feels like we've been sitting there for hours. "You're not going to break even. Let's just go before it gets worse."

"Fine," Kenny sighs. He ends up losing forty dollars. I'm just glad that we're finally going back to the room. Kenny is in a bad mood and Cartman isn't helping with his boasting remarks about how much he won playing roulette. (Over two hundred dollars! That fucking fat ass!)

Once we reach the room Kenny comes over to me and asks if he can talk to me in private. I agree and follow him out of the room. I really hope he doesn't ask to borrow some money...

"I can't share a bed with Cartman," is what Kenny tells me when we stop walking.

Well that is definitely not what I was expecting him to say. In fact, I hadn't even thought about tonight's sleeping arrangements.

"Why not?" I ask. "I don't want to share a bed with Cartman, either, you know."

"I know, but..." he pauses, and I swear I can see a blush creeping up on his cheeks. "Look, I know that I like to cuddle when I sleep, I just can't help it..."

Now we're both blushing and purposely avoiding each other's gazes. I would have been fine pretending that that had never happened. Why is he bringing it up now?

"And I know that you're fine with it and Stan won't mind," Kenny continues, "But if Cartman wakes up and I'm like _that_, he'll kick my ass! And then he'll probably start thinking that I'm gay for him or something, which is definitely not true, and I just can't do it."

"Fuck," I sigh, knowing that he's right.

"It'll be fine once we get inland because we can just get a roll-away bed at the hotel, so it's just this one night. Please, Kyle," he begs me. "Please."

Fuck my life. "All right," I say. "You can bunk with Stan."

"Thank you," he says, grabbing my shoulders. "Seriously."

"Yeah, yeah," I say as we head back to the room. Stan and Cartman are both ready for bed and I allow Kenny to shower and use the bathroom next. Cartman and Stan are laying separately on the two beds. I collapse next to Stan.

"I'm sleeping on the floor," I whisper to him, hopefully quiet enough that Cartman doesn't hear.

"Why?" Stan looks confused.

"Kenny said he wants to bunk with you." I decide not to go into detail.

"Okay," Stan shrugs. "But I don't see why that means you have to sleep on the floor."

"I'd rather do that then share the bed with Cartman!" I whisper incredulously.

"What are you two fags whispering about over there?" Cartman asks, giving us a suspicious look.

"None of your business," Stan snaps. Oh, shit, I've put him in one of his moods. "Come with me, Kyle, I want to talk to you." I follow him out the door, only slightly worried. When Stan gets serious... Let's just say it can get ugly.

We're barely two feet away from the closed door when Stan turns on me abruptly. "Spill it, Kyle," he says. "What's this thing you've got with Cartman?"

Now I am _really_ surprised. And confused. "What do you mean? I don't have anything with Cartman!"

"Oh really? Then why is sitting next to him or hanging out with him such a big deal?" He raises his eyebrows at me and keeps talking before I can answer. "You don't have a problem sharing a bed with me, or Kenny, so what's the problem with Cartman?"

"It's -" I stutter, "It's just - well, it's _Cartman!_" I continue before he can yell at me some more. "I mean, of course I'm not comfortable sharing a bed with him; he hates me! I'm just afraid he'll try to kill me in my sleep!" Okay, that's not true, but I can't think of anything else to say.

"Cartman doesn't hate you, Kyle," Stan says, pinching the bridge of his nose in his _Lord, give me strength_ pose.

I think he's wrong, but I don't want to argue so I say nothing.

"And he's not going to kill you in your sleep." He looks me in the eye. "Seriously, what's wrong? You can tell me, you know."

"I know," I say, looking down at my feet. I feel a little embarrassed. "It's nothing, really," I mutter. "I just don't like Cartman, that's all."

"I know. I don't either most of the time." He smiles at me and claps me on the shoulder, heading back to the room. "Still, you're not sleeping on the floor."

"Yeah," I agree.

Kenny is out of the bathroom when we get back and I take my turn to get ready for bed. I briefly debate on leaving my shorts on to go to sleep, but then decide against it. It would be better to just act normal. Plus, sleeping in boxers and a tee shirt is more comfortable. I walk out of the bathroom and swallow nervously. Kenny and Stan are in one bed. I take a deep breath and get under the covers of the other bed without looking at Cartman.

Truthfully, I don't know why this is such a big deal to me. Stan is right; I don't mind sleeping with him or Kenny in the same bed, but with Cartman, for some reason, it's just... different. I don't know why but it just is. I'm as tense as a fucking rod, right at the edge of the bed, as far away from Cartman as possible. I wonder if I'll get any sleep at all tonight.

"Well, good night, everyone," Cartman says, leaning over to turn out the lights. Thankfully, he doesn't comment on the fact that he has to sleep next to me.

What the hell is wrong with me? I can't sleep. I can't even seem to close my eyes. The fact that I am lying in the same bed as Cartman is messing with my mind - and not in a good way. I can hear the soft snores of Stan and Kenny nearby, but nothing from Cartman. I wonder if he's still awake, too. No, that's stupid. Why would he be? I'm on my side facing away from Cartman, which isn't the most comfortable position, since I prefer to sleep on my back, but I don't dare move.

It feels like I can feel Cartman's body heat against my back, which is ridiculous. I know I'm imagining it. I'm so confused. Why is my heart beating so fast? Just sleep, Kyle. Just sleep! I force my eyes to close. Please fall asleep, please fall asleep, please just let me fall asleep...

- KB -

"Wake up, Jew."

Something hits me on the head. "Urgh," I groan, rolling over. It can't be morning yet. It feels like I just fell asleep!

I ended up staying awake for most of the night, and only fell asleep in the early morning hours from sheer exhaustion. I seriously don't know what is wrong with me. I have no trouble falling asleep next to Kenny, and Stan isn't an issue either, so what is it about Cartman? I just don't know. All I know is that Kenny owes me one, and I better not have to bunk with Cartman again for the remainder of the trip.

"Get up, Kyle." That's Stan's voice. "Or else we'll go to breakfast without you," he says in a sing-song voice.

"Go without me, then," I mutter into the pillow, but it comes out sounding like a groan. Someone sits on the bed next to me and I feel a hand on my back.

"Are you feeling okay, dude?" Stan asks, sounding concerned.

I manage to lift my head. "Yeah, I'm just tired." It takes all of my energy to sit up and get out of bed. I feel slightly dizzy for a moment and have to steady myself with a hand on Stan's shoulder.

"Whoa," he says, grabbing my elbow.

"It's fine," I say once my vision clears. "Let me get ready quick and then we'll go." I gather my morning things and head to the bathroom. Cartman gives me a funny look on the way there but I ignore him. I look at myself in the mirror and curse silently. I look like shit. My hair is sticking out in every direction, my skin is even whiter and pastier than usual, and the bags under my eyes are bigger than my fucking nose.

After getting ready, I sit on the toilet seat for a moment, just stalling.

The bad news is that there is something seriously wrong with me.

The good news is that sometime later today the cruise ship will land on a port in Spain, which means that we will be on solid land for the next few days and I won't have to share a bed with Cartman. That means I can just forget about the whole experience I had last night instead of thinking about it and maybe figuring out what it means.

I mean, why confuse myself even more? It's over and done with, I won't have to do it again, so I should just forget all about it. It probably doesn't mean anything anyway. All of a sudden I feel a lot better and I'm ready to leave the bathroom. Ignoring my problems has always been a lot easier than facing them. Plus, I'm on vacation! I shouldn't have to worry about anything serious right now.

So it's with a clear mind that I rejoin the others in the room and we leave for breakfast together. I know that I'll have to figure out my... feelings concerning Cartman eventually, but I don't want to do it now, because the truth is that I'm scared of what I'll find.

I know there's something there... But for right now, I'm happy living in ignorance.


	6. Just Keep Drinking Water And You'll Be

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Six: Just Keep Drinking Water And You'll Be All Right **

During the breakfast announcements we learn that we will be reaching Spain some time in the early evening. The captain of the ship goes over the procedure for getting off the ship in an orderly and safe fashion, and he tells us that we can go anywhere we want in Spain as long as we're back in time to go with the cruise ship to the Caribbean islands.

We look over the brochure of activities once again and decide to spend a large chunk of the morning at the arcade. We play air hockey and those dumb racecar driving games. Cartman wins the jackpot on a Spongebob Squarepants machine and he spends all his tickets on candy - namely laffy taffy, pixie sticks, and starbursts. He eats it all throughout the afternoon.

"If I ate all that I'd go into a diabetic coma," I tell him jokingly.

"Sucks to be you," is all he says.

After we're tired of the arcade we decide to go bowling. There's an alley with eight lanes on the main deck of the ship. All the lanes are full when we get there, so we put our names on this list to go on the next open lane and go to eat lunch at the bowling restaurant while we wait. I get a chicken tender basket and a diet coke.

We're sitting around the table and chatting, just reminiscing about high school.

"Thank God we're finally out of there," Kenny says once again. We all agree. "Sucks I won't be going to college, though." There's a somewhat awkward silence. "I was kind of hoping that I'd win enough money to pay for at least a semester - just to say I went."

So Kenny wanted to win at the casino to pay for college? Oh man... Now I kind of feel bad. It's like the guilt of the... more fortunate, or something. Though, to be fair, I worked hard in high school to earn a scholarship while Kenny hardly ever went to class, so I don't feel that bad.

"Well maybe if you had spent more time in high school doing work instead of fucking around you could have gotten a scholarship," Cartman says callously. So he was thinking the same thing I was. But at least I didn't say it out loud!

This doesn't make Kenny mad, he just seems really depressed. "I know," he moans. "I'm such a fuck up." He puts is head in his hands.

"Good job, fat ass," I whisper into Cartman's ear, giving him a good kick under the table as well. "Way to make him feel bad."

"Well it's true!" Cartman whispers back. "I'm just telling the truth."

"Well it'd be better if you would just keep your mouth shut."

"Don't tell me what to do, you filthy -"

"Oh, look! A lane is open!" Stan bursts in before Cartman and I engage in an all-out argument.

"Good," Cartman sneers. "Ill beat all your asses at bowling."

"You're on!" I say, and we spend the next few hours having a bowling competition. It's actually really fun. Kenny gets out of his depressed state and we play singles and doubles, switching off teams.

Cartman is actually really good at bowling (who would have thought?) and we forget about our earlier argument (it's funny how quickly that seems to happen) and I allow him to show me the proper way to release the ball.

"It's all in the wrist, Kyle," he tells me. "To throw it straight, you have to make sure your wrist is straight as well. If you want a curve ball, on the other hand, you have to flick your wrist like this." He then proceeds to show me his curve ball release, which goes down the lane on the right side before curving in and hitting the pins just right, causing them to practically explode into one another.

"And that's how it's done," he tells me smugly.

I can't help but be impressed. "That's awesome," I tell him. I think it might be the first compliment I've ever given him. I turn to look at him and see that he has a faint flush on his cheeks. Wait, is he _blushing? _What the fuck?

"Your turn, Kyle!" Kenny calls me over to the lane.

I turn to him and say, "I'll be right there!" When I turn back to look at Cartman he's already over by the ball racks, facing away from me. I shrug and go take my turn.

My attempted curve ball goes straight in the gutter.

- KB -

"I can see it! I can see Spain!" Stan says, pointing ahead of himself. After bowling we went back to the room to get our suitcases ready for departure. We didn't unpack all that much, so it didn't take too long. We are now standing at the front of the ship, waiting to land. I squint in the direction where Stan pointed, but all I see is the foggy skyline. The day is slightly overcast which makes it hard to see across the long distance.

"I'll take your word for it," I tell him.

"We're almost there! Spain! Oh my God I can't believe I'm almost in SPAIN!" Kenny is freaking out. I enjoy his excitement, but I tune him out when he starts singing a song about Spanish girls. Kenny throws his arm over my shoulder. "We're going to party tonight!" he says. "I'm getting laid!" He says the last part really loudly and I put my head in my hands in embarrassment as other passengers give us odd looks.

"Don't look for me if I don't come back to the hotel tonight," he gives me a flirtatious wink.

"You're so full of it, Kenny," Stan says, laughing.

A little while later, all the passengers are instructed to gather their belongings because we are swiftly approaching Spain and will be arriving soon. The four of us get back to our room, having to walk slowly through the crowded ship, and eventually we make it back up to the deck. I can actually see the coast of Spain in the distance.

It's early evening when we land at the port in Spain. After we land, it takes a while to get all the people off the ship. The instructions are to wait until our room number is called. Then we're allowed to go to the exit ramp where we show our tickets before we're finally off the ship. They start with the first class passengers, of course, but luckily there aren't too many so we don't have to wait too long before they start calling second class passengers.

As we exit the ship the captain reminds us to be back on time. He tells us that, not counting tonight, we have two full days in Spain and that we need to be back here on the morning of the third day to get back on the ship to go to the Caribbean. He also tells us that the ship will be stationed here until we leave, so we're welcome to come back any time if we wish to. We tell him we'll remember before we rush onto dry land.

We all just stand there for a few moments taking it in. Spain is beautiful. Everything looks better here. The grass is greener, the sky is bluer, and I swear even the air is cleaner. I realize that I'm standing on a different continent from the rest of my family, and it makes me feel free and also overwhelmed at the same time.

Kenny breaks the silence. "What are we going to do first?" he asks.

"We're going to the hotel," Cartman says. "We'll have to catch a taxi." We start walking closer to the curb of the street. Cartman hails a taxi with his unearthly screech and we pile our stuff in the back. Cartman says something to the taxi driver in Spanish and I come to a halt, realizing something that should have been blatantly obvious from the first time I realized we were going to Spain. People from Spain speak Spanish, not English.

"Do you know how to speak Spanish?" I ask Stan, following him into the taxi. I sit on his lap without being asked because I'm too shocked to feel like complaining. Kenny gets in after me and the taxi starts moving.

"You know I took Spanish in high school," Stan says. "But you also know that I sucked at it."

I nod. "That's what I was afraid of," I say. I know Kenny's Spanish skills are also limited, and I took French as my second language requirement in high school. So that means we have to rely on Cartman's Spanish speaking skills. Fucking great.

"Don't worry too much, Kyle," Stan says. "I'm sure most people can speak at least a little bit of English."

I guess that's true. Or at least I hope it is. The taxi ride to our hotel isn't long. "Gracias," I say to the driver. That's pretty much the only word I know. He just smiles at my terrible attempt at the Spanish language and drives away after Cartman pays him. As he's putting the cash back into his wallet I ask, "Why do you have so much cash?"

"It's spending money for the trip, retard," he says. "Unless you want to pay for the taxi rides on top of your food and recreational activities?"

"Nope, I'm good," I say hurriedly and rush to catch up with Stan. The hotel we're staying in is _huge_; it must have at least seventy five floors! The inside is air-conditioned and furnished really nicely, almost like a fancy department store. We go to the front desk and Cartman checks us in and gets our room key. I can see a plaque on the wall behind the counter that has five stars and a large caption above them. I don't know what it says, though. When I ask Cartman, he says, "It's says this is a five-star hotel." Then he walks away.

The rest of us follow him to the elevators. I've never stayed at a five-star hotel before. This prize that Cartman won is seriously amazing. Our room is on the fifty-second floor (I hope there's not a fire!), room 5210. It is a large and open room. Windows cover the whole far wall, giving us a view of the city where we're staying, which I now realize I don't even know the name of.

"Where are we?" I ask, looking out the window.

"In the province of Asturias," Cartman answers. "The beaches here are supposedly kick ass." He smirks.

"Hell yeah!" Kenny says. "We are definitely going to the beach. Preferably to a nude beach."

"We are not going to a nude beach!" I laugh in surprise.

"Why not?" Kenny asks.

"Because!" I can't really think of an answer. "Because I don't want to walk around naked!"

"But we don't even know these people! And you'll never see them again! What's the big deal?"

"I can't believe we're even discussing this," I say, turning away from Kenny. "We're not going to a nudist beach. And that's final." I can tell that Kenny wants to argue but mercifully he lets the subject drop.

I roll my suitcase against the wall and resume my observation of the room. The walls are painted beige. There are no overhead lights but there are several lamps connected to the walls. The bathroom is closest to the door and there are two double beds and a sofa bed. A large flat screen television is situated on a coffee table in front of the sofa bed and there is a small refrigerator and microwave in the corner of the room. The room is very clean and generally better than what I expected.

I kneel on the floor to start unpacking my suitcase. I don't hear anyone approaching behind me (I can hear Kenny and Stan talking across the room) so when Cartman speaks into my ear it scares the shit out of me.

"Jesus, Cartman!" I say, turning around. "What did you say?"

"I asked you why you don't want to go to a nude beach, Kyle," he said. Of course Cartman wants to know.

"So you _do_ want to?" I turn the question back to him.

"I wouldn't mind it. I have nothing to be ashamed of." He leers at me in a superior fashion, and I can't stop my cheeks from heating.

"I'm not ashamed, either!" I say. "I just don't want to have to see _your_ naked fat ass!"

"Yeah right, Kyle! You just don't want to go because you're scared we'll laugh at your tiny Jew penis!"

"My penis is not small!"

"What the fuck are you guys talking about?" Stan comes over to us. "Why are you arguing about the size of Kyle's penis?" He laughs.

"Kyle doesn't want to go to a nudist beach because he's ashamed of his -"

"Shut up, Cartman!"

By now my face is really red and I am actually legitimately seriously pissed off. "Calm down, Kyle," Stan says with a calming gesture. He puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me away from Cartman. "He's just kidding. He says it cause he knows it pisses you off."

I glare at Cartman as he looks through his suitcase. "Besides, who even knows if there's a nudist beach nearby?" Stan continues to try to quench my anger. "If they really want to go to a nude beach, I'll stay here with you. Wendy would kill me if she ever found out that I saw another naked woman, haha!" He laughs, and I feel better.

"Thanks, Stan," I say.

"No problem." He turns around. "I'm hungry. You guys ready to eat?"

"Definitely," Kenny says. "I'm starving."

Cartman agrees and we go downstairs to the hotel lobby. We find a map with the restaurants and shops in the area at the front desk and spend a few minutes outside the hotel looking at our options.

"That place is nearby," I say, pointing at the map. The map is all in Spanish but I can tell from the icon that it's a restaurant. "What does it say about the restaurant?" I ask.

"It says they serve authentic Asturian cuisine," Cartman says. "Whatever that is."

"Let's try it out," Stan says.

It's close by so we decide to walk and save some money. I just hope we don't get lost. But we have a map, and we can always get a taxi on the way back if we have to. We find the place after about ten minutes of walking. It's a small place with a counter to order from and a few tables. We look at the menu for a while.

"What do they have?" Kenny asks Cartman.

Cartman studies the menu for a moment. "Pretty much just seafood," he says. "I guess that makes sense, since we're on the coast."

"What type of seafood?" I ask. I am not a big fan of seafood.

"Lots of different kinds of shrimp. I think I'll get the fried shrimp basket." He goes to the counter to order.

"Shrimp?" I say. "But I can't eat shrimp!"

"Why not?" Kenny asks.

"Because it's not Kosher!"

Both Kenny and Stan start laughing. "What?" I ask, feeling defensive.

"Dude, your mother is literally an ocean away. I think it's all right if you aren't Kosher for one night," Stan says.

"I don't know..." I say, but there really is not much else on the menu, so I guess I don't really have a choice. We get our food and go sit down at a corner table. "Well, here goes nothing..." I say as I take a piece of fried shrimp. I take a bite off the top and chew slowly. "That's not bad."

"It's delicious!" Cartman says. "Stupid Jews don't eat shrimp. That's just stupid."

"Lay off Cartman," Stan says before I can throw a hissy fit.

"So," Kenny begins, "I made a list of possible activities we can do while in Spain earlier."

"So _that's_ what the list from the plan ride was!" I say. "I was wondering about that."

Kenny laughs. "Yep, this is it. So far I've come up with a few things that we absolutely must do. So here it is: number one, go clubbing."

"Clubbing?!" I say.

"Please don't interrupt, Kyle." Kenny tells me.

I sigh but shut my mouth.

"So on my list I've got clubbing, swimming, going to the beach, tanning, and of course going to any cool landmarks or attractions nearby."

"What a well thought out list, Kenny," Cartman says. I can't quite tell if he's being sarcastic or not. "Lord knows that we need to tan. Kyle's pasty white legs are almost blinding in the sunlight."

"They're not _that_ white!" I say, even though they are. But it's not my fault I have a fair skin complexion!

"We can do all that stuff, but I still want to look online and see what else we can do for fun nearby," Stan says.

"Yeah," I agree.

Kenny nods. By now we're all done with our dinner (I feel a little bit guilty about eating shrimp, but whatever). "It's not too late," Kenny says. "What do you want to do before we go back to the hotel?"

Stan and I shrug. Kenny gets a mischievous look in his eye. "We should go clubbing!"

I grimace. I knew he was going to say that.

"Come on guys, it'll be fun! We can go dance and see the night life of Spain!" He throws his hands into the air dramatically. "I don't want to go back to the hotel, and what else is there to do at night?"

"He's got a point there," Stan says.

"Plus," Kenny adds, "When are we ever going to have another chance to dance in Spain? If we don't do it tonight then we'll just have to do it another night." He raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, okay," I agree. "Let's do it."

"Yes!" Kenny yells. We throw away our garbage and head back out into the street. We decide to walk along the main street until we find a suitable place.

I'm feeling a little bit apprehensive, but it's better to get it out of the way. I'm just hoping that I can dance with Stan in peace and that Kenny won't try to set me up with a Spanish girl.

As we continue to walk down the street I begin to feel a bit excited. I've never been clubbing before, let alone clubbing in Spain! I'm glad that I agreed to do this. I just hope that I feel the same way at the end of the night. And it's only dancing, right? What's the worst that could happen?


	7. This Is Paralysis

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Seven: This Is Paralysis **

We find a night club after about fifteen minutes of walking. It's a large building situated between two restaurants.

"Cool! We can eat here tomorrow night," Kenny says.

Luckily there's no line to get into the building and no security, either. We open the doors and walk in.

"Where's the music?" Stan asks. I'm wondering the same thing. It's dark in the club except for the colored lights shining down from the ceiling. We walk farther into the building and see that to the left there is a packed bar, to the right there are round bar tables (the kind that are just meant to be stood around) and in front there are stairs leading down onto what appears to be a dance floor. The place is quite busy even though there's no music.

"What kind of club doesn't have music?" Kenny asks, looking disappointed. "Maybe we should go somewhere else." He turns around and starts walking back to the doors, but Cartman stops him.

"Wait! Let's a least ask first."

We follow him to the bar and he pushes his way to the front. He asks the bartender our question (I'm still surprised that he can speak Spanish relatively well) and nods as the bartender replies. He says something back after studying the menu for a moment, and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, giving the bartender a handful of cash.

"What's that for?" Kenny asks. "What did he say?"

The bartender goes off somewhere and Cartman turns around and tells us, "He says that they start the music at ten o'clock. Any earlier than that and they'll get in trouble because of the noise." I nod. That makes sense.

"So why did you pay him?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

The bartender returns at that moment with four drinks, which I presume have alcohol in them. "I figured we could have a drink while we waited," Cartman says with a smirk, picking up two drinks and handing one to me. He hands the other two to Stan and Kenny and we find a table to stand around.

"I can't believe he didn't ask for your ID," Stan says. He takes a sip of the drink. "That's awesome."

"It's just my natural charm," Cartman says. Kenny laughs and I just roll my eyes. Stan notices that I haven't touched my drink yet.

When he asks why I tell him, "I just don't want to get drunk."

"You won't get drunk from one cup," he assures me. "And you don't have to drink the whole thing if you start feeling tipsy. Just try it."

"All right," I agree, feeling slightly rebellious. The flavor of the drink is very strong and it burns my throat slightly as it goes down. It's not pleasant. I cough just a little bit and set the glass back down. "What is that?" I ask Cartman.

"Spanish whiskey," he grins. "The good stuff."

"Hmm," I reply, taking another sip. It goes down a bit easier. I don't know if it's possible, but I'm actually starting to feel a slight buzz. Am I really that much of a lightweight? I am small, so I guess it wouldn't be that surprising... Either way, I need to watch myself carefully. I can't drink too much; I don't want to run the risk of becoming drunk.

"How long is it until ten?" Kenny asks. Stan looks at his cell.

"Only about ten more minutes," he answers.

As it gets closer to dance time the club begins to fill up with people. It's interesting observing all of them. There are people of all ages, though no one seems to be under the age of seventeen. I'm glad that we're not the youngest group of people here. There are also young adults and middle-aged adults, with equal parts men and woman. Everyone seems to be laughing and having a good time. That can be contributed to a nice group of people, and also to the alcohol that is freely flowing around the establishment.

At exactly ten o'clock all the doors close and the DJ comes over the loud speaker, speaking in rapid Spanish. A few disco balls drop from the ceiling and the lights start rotating around the room. People rush to the dance floor as the music starts.

"Whoohoo!" Kenny yells as he runs off to the dance floor. Stan and Cartman and I follow him, laughing. The dance floor is huge, which is good because it is crowded with people. The first song is upbeat and easy to dance to. The four of us dance in a loose circle, also surrounded by other bodies around us. I enjoy the music - it doesn't matter that I don't understand the lyrics - and I find myself loosening up. The atmosphere in this place is amazing.

I really do love dancing. At school dances I always felt self conscious because everyone thinks they're really stupid, and so I hold in all my feelings, but here, in this club in Spain, I feel like I can freely express myself. It's exhilarating. I jump up and down to the sound of the pounding bass and throw my arms in the air and find immense pleasure in just closing my eyes and keeping up with the relentless rhythm of the music.

- KB -

Time passes. I can feel sweat slipping down my neck. I have no idea how long we've been dancing. It's still dark, with the only lights coming from the disco balls and colored lights. When I open my eyes and look around I see that Kenny has disappeared somewhere (probably with a girl) but that Stan and Cartman are still dancing close by. To my surprise, Stan is dancing with a black-haired girl. He must be pretty drunk. I feel a bit buzzed myself, even though I only drank half of the glass of Spanish whiskey. I guess I really am a lightweight. Oh, well.

Everything feels so surreal. I don't quite know how, but some time later I find myself dancing with my own black-haired girl. She's a good dancer. I put my hands on her hips and acknowledge that she is quite fit. She turns around and grinds her ass into my crotch suggestively. I keep my hands on her hips and grind with her to the music.

I look over her shoulder while we're dancing and spot Cartman a few feet away. He's also dancing with a girl. His eyes are closed. One of his hands is on her hip and the other is on her shoulder. The way the two of them are swaying to the music is extremely sensual, and I find that I can't look away. I gasp quietly when Cartman opens his eyes and looks right at me. I don't even feel embarrassed for staring.

He locks eyes with me, neither of us looking away as we continue dancing. His brown eyes are even darker than usual and I bite my lip subconsciously. Cartman moves his hands up and down the girl's sides, and I find myself wondering what it would be like to dance with Cartman. A flash of excitement runs through me and the girl I'm dancing with turns around, giving me a lascivious smile.

She says something quick in Spanish and starts leading me off the dance floor.

"Wait!" I say, but she doesn't stop until we're outside of the club. I can still hear the music pounding from out here, but it's subdued.

"You're American?" she asks me, smiling.

"Yeah," I answer, slightly out of breath.

"I love Americans," she says, and then she leans forward and kisses me on the mouth. I squeak in protest and she shoves her tongue into my mouth. I am suddenly very sober and alarmed. What the fuck is this girl doing? I put my hands on her shoulders to push her away, but she grabs a fistful of my hair to keep her lips pressed to mine.

When I finally manage to pry my mouth free she starts kissing my neck, and then down to my shoulder. Her hand trails down to cup me through my shorts, and I freeze, horrified.

The girl stops and steps back, looking at me quizzically. "You're not hard," she says in an accusing tone of voice.

"Umm..." I manage. I watch with a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and curiosity as she drops to her knees before me. "So you don't get turned on by just kissing?" she says. She slowly unzips my shorts. I'm surprised that she knows so much English, and I am in shock at what is happening. Is she seriously going to...

"I know something that will turn you on," she says, and she pulls down both my shorts and boxers in one swift movement. I don't even have time to be embarrassed before she's taking my cock into her mouth and sucking.

My mind is completely blank. All I can think is that I can't believe this is happening. What the fuck is happening? What the fuck? _What the fuck?_

"Why aren't you getting hard?" the girl asks, looking up at me with a pout.

"I don't know," I say, feeling very alarmed. "I'm nervous."

"And probably drunk," she says. "My boyfriend can never get it up when he's really drunk, either."

"Yeah," I agree, "I'm just really drunk." I say this just to get away from her. The truth is, I don't feel drunk at all anymore. I do feel slightly sick, though. She allows me to pull up my clothes and I literally run away down the street. I don't care where I'm going. I just need to get away.

- KB -

I stop after a few minutes of frantic running because I don't want to get completely lost. I end up at what appears to be a park, but is pretty much just a small plot of land between buildings with a swing set and a few trees. I take a seat underneath a tree and catch my breath.

My thoughts are a complete mess. I can't believe what just happened. In hindsight, it really shouldn't be that much of a big deal. I'm sure it's happened to a lot of guys. The only difference is that most guys would enjoy something like that happening, especially if they were a bit buzzed, while I, on the other hand...

What is wrong with me? Why did I freak out like that? There was nothing wrong with her - she was an attractive enough girl! Why couldn't I get it up for her?

"Oh my God," I groan over and over again. "Oh my God..."

I don't want to think about this, but I can't stop. This type of thing has happened to me before. I've never gone any farther with a girl than just kissing - not because they didn't want to, but because _I_ didn't want to. I just wasn't interested. Kissing the girls was fun, but it didn't arouse me. I didn't think that was weird. I just kept telling myself that I was waiting for a real relationship. When I saw a girl I really liked and was interested in, then it would happen. But I haven't met a girl like that yet...

There is something seriously wrong with me. My morals aren't that great; if a pretty girl starts sucking me off I should be able to get it up! I'm a fucking eighteen year old boy, for Christ sake! I've got tons of raging hormones! I'm horny! I masturbate just as much as the next guy! Okay, maybe not _that_ much, but still...

Although, now that I think about it, I've never been turned on by porn. I just think it's disgusting that people would film themselves having sex for money. The fact that I'm a guy and I don't like porn is weird enough in itself. And I've never been turned on by a girl... Usually I have wet dreams that I can't remember when I wake up, and I just jerk off to those. Or sometimes I'd just wake up with a mess in my boxers.

God, I wish this had never happened. I wish I could just forget about it and move on like nothing's changed. But I can't. Not anymore. I'm sick of lying to myself. I've been making excuses for myself, saying that I'm waiting for a relationship with a girl, that I'll meet different girls in college... But what if... What if the problem is something completely different?

It's so terrifying to contemplate that I can't even think it in my head. I can't be... That would just ruin everything. My mother would kill me. Please, God, no...

"I like girls," I tell myself. "I like girls." I remember how disgusted I felt when that girl put my dick in her mouth.

I feel like crying. Why me? Why is this happening to me? I don't want to be gay. I put my head in my hands and can't stop a few tears from escaping my eyes. There. I finally thought to myself that it might be a possibility. I've been blocking this thought from my head for years.

I'm scared.

I don't want to be gay.

- KB -

I somehow manage to make it back to the hotel. I don't have a key to the room so I wait outside until the others come back. I'm so tired. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to think anymore. I just want to sleep.

"Kyle!" I hear Stan's voice. "There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you!" I can't even look up to acknowledge him. He can tell that I'm in one of my moods, so he simply takes my arm and drags me inside behind Cartman and Kenny.

"You okay, dude?" Stan asks in a soft voice. I know that Cartman and Kenny are giving me strange looks as well. In answer, I pull off my shorts and socks and get into bed, pulling the covers up over my head.

Maybe when I wake up this will all have been a dream.

- KB -

When I wake up in the morning, everyone else is still asleep. I don't know what time it is, but beautiful rays of sunshine are coming through the windows on the far wall. Stan is asleep next to me in the bed, his front facing away from me. It takes me a while to remember the events of the night before, and when I do, I simply feel... I don't know. Not sad, surely? Maybe disappointed is a better word. I really shouldn't have freaked out like that. I mean, here I am, in the same bed as Stan, who is a very attractive boy, and I don't feel anything sexual at all.

And the other day, cuddling with Kenny only made me feel a bit awkward at the situation, but not aroused. So maybe I'm not gay. Maybe I'm just asexual. Maybe I don't like anyone. I don't know. I'm so confused. I get up to go to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I bring a fresh change of clothes with me and spend a long time brushing my teeth because my mouth tastes disgusting.

I think I look surprisingly good considering the small break down I had last night. There's just a little bit of puffiness around my eyes. I put a wet washcloth over them and sit on the toilet seat for a while. Eventually, someone knocks on the door.

"Kyle?" It's Stan. I open the door and let him inside. "How are you?" he asks, looking genuinely concerned. I feel a little bit guilty for the way I reacted last night.

"I'm fine," I tell him, and thankfully, it's the truth. I'm a bit shaken up, but I can figure out my feelings. I shouldn't just jump to conclusions. I might be gay and I might not be. I just have to figure it out and live with whatever I find.

Stan smiles at me tentatively. "Are you sure?" he asks, "I'm just worried that we gave you too much alcohol. Did something happen at the club?"

"Yeah, it was just the alcohol," I tell him, glad that he gave me an out. "I definitely wasn't feeling the best."

"Yeah," Stan agrees. "We need to be careful with your diabetes." This makes me smile. Stan really is like a mom sometimes.

I nod at him and manage a small smile. "I'm done in here if you want to get ready," I tell him. I walk out of the bathroom, effectively ending our conversation. I feel bad for lying to Stan about what happened, but I can't tell him yet. I need to sort myself out first.

Kenny and Cartman are both just getting up as I walk into the room. Kenny is sitting on the sofa bed and Cartman is pushing back the covers of the other double bed. I start making the bed Stan and I slept in, even though I know I don't have to. I can see Kenny coming toward me in my peripheral vision.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "You all right, dude?" He asks nicely. "What happened last night?"

I turn around and give him a smile. "I just had too much to drink. I was pretty much out of my head." Well, that last part was true, at least. Kenny accepts my answer and goes to get ready.

I continue making the bed. I have a feeling that Cartman is watching me, but I don't turn around to check until I'm done. Then, finally, I turn around and meet his eyes. He doesn't say anything, just simply looks at me with a calculating gaze, his eyes slightly narrowed.

My heart starts pounding like crazy. I realize that he knows that I left the club last night with that girl. He watched her pull me away. He knows that something happened. He could tell Stan and Kenny and make things really awkward for me if he wanted to. In fact, why hasn't he said anything yet? Is he planning on blackmailing me?

Cartman's gaze sharpens. He knows that I know that he knows. He's thinking of what he should do. I can just imagine the different scenarios running through his mind. I can't take it anymore.

"What do you want, Cartman?" I ask him in a quiet voice.

He ponders this question for a while. Before he can answer we're interrupted by Stan and Kenny. "Dude, get ready, Cartman," Kenny says. "We're gonna leave soon."

Cartman gets off the bed and starts gathering clothes from his suitcase. I watch as he slowly walks toward me, stopping to whisper in my ear.

"We'll talk later, Jew."

I feel a sense of foreboding as Cartman continues on to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

At least I'm safe for now.


	8. With No Time At All To Let Go

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Eight: With No Time At All To Let Go **

We get free continental breakfast with the hotel, which is awesome. I fill my plate with scrambled eggs and toast and have a large glass of orange juice. I have a feeling I'll need all my strength today. There's a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, which I'm sure won't go away until I have my "talk" with Cartman. He's obviously planning on doing that later, though, because right now we're deciding what we're going to do today.

"The beach!" Kenny yells, "Definitely the beach!" We all eventually agree that we'll spend the afternoon at the beach. It's a beautiful day, and the beach does sound fun, as long as there are no naked people.

After breakfast, we go back up to the room to get our swimming trunks. We don't change into them yet since we'll have to take a taxi to the beach. The taxi ride now holds a whole new meaning for me. Cartman gets in first, as usual, with Stan following him, and I cautiously follow Stan, sitting gingerly on his lap. Cartman smirks at me and I start blushing for some reason. I know I'm acting stupid. Cartman does not suddenly know that I am questioning my sexuality. He doesn't know a thing. Just act normal, Broflovski!

We finally get to the beach, which I am relieved to see holds no nude people. While we're in the changing rooms getting into our swimming trunks, I decide that now is a good time to... explore my feelings. Maybe even experiment a bit. I figure that I'll have to test my theory that I am most likely gay on strangers, which doesn't sound very fun, but I have decided it is quite necessary. Plus, it should be pretty easy to do at the beach.

We put our clothing in two lockers and head out. It's packed out here with families in the sand and in the ocean. There are a few beach volleyball games going on and I see that there's a place where surf boards can be rented. Kenny spots it as well.

"We should go surfing," he says.

"We don't know how to surf," I tell him logically.

"I'm sure they can give us lessons," he says. I reluctantly follow him and Stan and Cartman over to the surf board stand.

There are three boys in the stand, probably a few years older than us. They can speak English surprisingly well, and they tell us that they would be happy to give us surfing lessons. The only reason why I don't argue is because this is a good opportunity for me to experiment. I can truthfully acknowledge to myself that the three boys at the stand are quite attractive. They all have dark, wavy hair and tanned skin. Their eyes are dark as well, but I'm not close enough to tell the color.

Two of the boys will give us lessons while the last one will stay at the stand. The two who will teach us introduce themselves as Alex and Felix. They're brothers. They give each of us our own surfboard and tell us to follow them to the beach. I admire them as they walk in front of us. I acknowledge that the two of them are very fit. They're both quite muscular and have long legs. I've never checked out a guy's ass before, but I suppose theirs are nice.

Before we go in the water the two of them make us line up our boards on the sand and practice paddling and standing up the correct way and stuff like that. Then, we find a clear space in the water and wade in. The water is warm and slightly dense due to all the salt. I'm a bit surprised by how much there is. I've never been to the ocean before so this is a whole new experience for me. Stan and I pair up with Alex and the first thing he tells us are the safety precautions. Never turn your back on the waves, don't get too close to other surfers, so on and so forth. He then proceeds to teach us the correct way to sit on our boards. A little ways off Cartman and Kenny are already starting to attempt to stand up on their boards. I laugh when I see Cartman wipe out.

Alex has us lay on our surf boards and paddle in the water for a while. After this, he shows us how to stand up. He does it quickly and gracefully, making it look really easy, though I'm sure it's not.

"That was awesome," I tell him.

"Lots of practice," he replies, smiling. His teeth are very white. "Are you ready?" he asks.

Stan and I nod. "You go first," I tell Stan. I'm not very coordinated, so I'm a bit apprehensive about trying to stand. Alex and I watch as Stan paddles for a while before standing up a little shakily as a wave approaches. He manages to ride it for a while before he loses his balance and tumbles into the water.

"That was awesome!" he yells when he comes back up. "Your turn, Kyle!"

"All right!" I yell back, starting to paddle. I see a small wave coming in and try to stand up as it approaches. I make it into a crouch before the surf board is pulled away under my feet and I crash into the water. I sputter as I come back up for air. "What the hell just happened?" I ask aloud to no one in particular. I swim to my surf board and rejoin Alex and Stan.

Stan is already surfing again. He manages to stand up for a bit longer on his second try before falling into the ocean.

"Your friend's a natural," Alex says, his Spanish accent heavy.

"Yeah," I agree, with only the tiniest hint of envy. "He's always been athletic."

Alex turns to me. "Want to try again?" he asks. "I'll watch and tell you what you're doing wrong."

I nod and try again. The same thing happens - when I try to stand, the surf board just slips out from under my feet.

"You're not back far enough," Alex tells me as he swims over with his board. "You want most of the board to be in front of you. Try again."

I wait for a wave and try to stand up again. I get much farther back on the board and manage to stand up for a moment before I lose my balance. That one moment that I was standing up on the board was pretty awesome and I want to try again. "Can I watch you again?" I ask Alex.

He agrees and I watch as he catches a pretty big wave. He's graceful and athletic and very manly - definitely attractive. But I still don't feel anything. Maybe I need to get closer...

The next few times I try to surf I fall over on purpose and pretend to be frustrated. Stan is surfing like a pro and doesn't need any extra help so it's okay that I'm occupying all of Alex's attention. Alex is a helpful guy and he's willing to get up close and personal to help me, which is perfect for my "experiment."

At the moment he's leaning in close behind me on the surf board. I'm on my stomach, paddling, and one of his hands is on my lower back, guiding me. A wave approaches and I stand up and ride it all the way back to shore.

"Nice job!" Alex tells me as I come back out. "Are you ready for some bigger waves?" I look and see that Stan and Kenny and even Cartman are all further out already riding bigger waves, and I nod. We go out farther and he tells me, "It's a bit harder out here, so I'm going to help you position first." He tells me to stand up on the board, which I do, putting my hands on his shoulders for balance. He grabs my ankles with this hands and positions them on the board. His hands are warm.

"So when you stand up you want it to be like that," he says, looking up at me.

"All right," I say and he tells me to get back down. He then shows me the correct way to sit up before I stand. He positions himself behind me and puts his hands on my waist to help me balance. He's really close behind me and when he speaks I can feel his breath ghosting across my ear. My heart starts beating faster, and it has nothing to do with the larger waves that I will be riding. I know it's because of our increased body contact, but to be honest I'm not sure my heart's beating faster because I'm attracted to him or because I'm nervous at his proximity. But, well, at least I don't feel disgusted.

We keep surfing for a while and I catch some pretty big waves before we decide to call it a day. It feels like we've been surfing forever and I gladly agree that we should go eat some lunch. We thank Alex and Felix and return the boards. We find a place to eat further along the beach and I get a hot dog and some fries as well as a cold glass of lemonade. I decide that my "experiment" wasn't a complete failure, even though I didn't really learn anything.

We're sick of the ocean, so we play a game of beach volleyball when we go back out. First off it's Stan and I versus Cartman and Kenny, and we end up losing. Stan and Kenny are pretty evenly matched, but then there's me and Cartman: I'm tiny but fast while Cartman is tall and strong. It's really no competition at all. We switch up teams so that it's Kenny and I against Cartman and Stan, which is even _more_ unfair, but still fun. We end up playing four against four with some other guys on the beach, which is the most fun of all. Stan and Kenny are in the back (Stan serves) while I set up the volley so that Cartman can spike it in the front.

I'm exhausted, but happy, when we call the last game. We shake hands with the other team and head back to the locker rooms. We're all absolutely covered in sand and my hair is gross from the ocean water. I need to take a shower, but I balk at the sight of them. They're communal showers, with only waist high concrete barriers between them. There are already some other boys showering. I really, really want to take a shower, but... What if I get an erection? How would I ever explain that? But it would also be weird if I didn't shower.

Oh, fuck it. I can't stand being this dirty. We take off our swimming trunks and leave them out to dry.

At first it's really fucking embarrassing standing there naked taking a shower. I have a hard time refraining from covering myself with my hands. But I relax as time goes on and I realize that no one is looking at me. Luckily there's free soap in each stall and I spend a nice amount of time washing my hair and body really well. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Stan as he washes his own body. He's soaping up his shoulders and running his hands down his arms and across his chest. I find it sensual, even though I know Stan isn't trying to be sexy or anything.

Well there's an interesting thought... Could I be interested in Stan? I don't think so... I mean, he is definitely very good looking and everything, but I think I would know by now if I felt that way about my best friend. No, I don't think of him like that. I can watch him in the shower and not feel aroused, so that pretty much settles that. I sigh as I rinse myself off. Maybe I'm not gay after all. That would be good news.

Or maybe I really _am_ asexual. I'm starting to feel a little bit sad, which is completely stupid. I decide that I'm just not going to worry about it anymore. What happens will happen. I don't have to rush anything. I can wait for my feelings to show themselves. And hey! I didn't get an embarrassing hard on in the public showers! That's a small victory, at least. We dry off with the towels provided back in the changing rooms and get dressed in our clothes.

"What should we do now?" Kenny asks. We're standing in the street holding our swimming trunks as cars drive by in the street.

"I'm not hungry enough for dinner yet," Stan says. "Why don't we recoup at the hotel before we do anything?"

"Sounds good," I agree, and Cartman hails a cab. By now we have a sort of ritual. Cartman gets in first, then Stan, then me, and finally Kenny at the end. Because I am the smallest I have to sit on Stan's lap. I have accepted this as my fate even though I don't enjoy it. Yet, this time, for some reason, Cartman has decided to upset our arrangement.

"Why don't you sit on my lap, Kyle?" He asks me once I slide inside.

I just stare at him. "What?"

"I'm sure Stan's legs are getting tired." He pats his own legs. "Hop over here, Jew." He says it almost affectionately.

"My legs are fine," Stan says at the same time I say, "You've got to be joking."

"I'm not joking, Kyle," Cartman says, and he narrows his eyes. "Get over here." He seems serious.

"Why?" I protest. By now Kenny has climbed in and closed the door and we are already moving.

"Because I said so," he glares.

"Fuck you, Cartman," I say, glaring back.

"So, guys, do you want to know something interesting? Last night, Kyle -"

He stops abruptly as I slap the palm of my hand over his mouth. I am furious. "Fine," I say, my hand still over Cartman's mouth as I move to sit on his lap. I turn around so that my back is to the window. I keep my hand over Cartman's mouth as I whisper, "Don't say a word about last night," into his ear.

Kenny and Stan are giving us weird looks. "What is he talking about, Kyle?" Stan asks.

Cartman removes my hand. "Oh, nothing. I was just going to say that Kyle is a pussy lightweight." Cartman gives me a malicious smirk. Stan raises his eyebrows in what is obviously disbelief but thankfully he lets it go.

I wait until I know for sure that Kenny and Stan are deep in conversation before I round on Cartman. "What the fuck are you doing?" I snarl at him quietly.

"Nothing, Kyle," he says in an innocent voice. "Just reminding you of the conversation we're going to have later."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble, folding my arms. I turn around so that I'm facing the front. I slide back on Cartman's lap, deciding to be obnoxious. "Doesn't mean I have to sit on your lap," I mumble quietly.

Cartman doesn't reply. The only sound in the cab are from Stan and Kenny's conversation, which I'm not paying attention to. I notice that Cartman's legs are longer than Stan's. My feet barely touch the bottom of the cab. They're larger than Stan's, too, but not by that much. Suddenly Cartman puts his hands on my waist, almost exactly where Alex put his hands during the surfing lessons earlier.

"What are you doing?" I hiss at him, turning my head.

"I have to put my hands _somewhere_, Kyle," he says. He grins at me meanly. He's enjoying this, the bastard. He just loves pissing me off.

"I hate you," I tell him quietly, turning back around. I am determined to ignore him, but it's hard when I'm sitting in his lap and he's touching me. I can feel a heavy flush covering me. It started at my cheeks and has spread down my neck and to my chest. Even my ears feel hot. My heart rate has picked up exponentially. Why does this always happen around Cartman? He just makes me so nervous.

And uncomfortable. Yeah, that's the word.

And when did it suddenly get so hot in here? Cartman's hands are really warm; I can feel their heat on my waist through my tee shirt. I am suddenly hit with the memory of the night on the cruise ship when I shared the bed with Cartman. Fuck! Why am I remembering that now? I thought that memory was safely buried - never to be thought about again! But how I feel now is exactly how I felt that night - like I'm all hot and bothered, or something. But that can't be right, can it?

Do I think Cartman is attractive?

_Whoa!_ That is not something I want to even consider thinking about. I'm still questioning my sexuality, here! No. No, no, no, no, I am so not going there. No way. No.

We finally get back to the hotel and I open the door of the cab before we're completely stopped. I jump out onto the curb and almost fall straight into a bush, but somehow I manage to keep my balance.

"Let's go," I say, acting like I'm in a hurry. I walk into the hotel with quick steps, not looking back to see if they're following. I take deep, even breaths as I wait for an elevator. By the time the guys catch up to me I've calmed down quite a bit. But I still don't want to talk about it, so I fold my arms across my chest and hope that Stan will take the hint.

We all get into the elevator when it finally comes. I stand at the front, right next to the numbers. I can _feel_ Cartman behind me. I know I should probably say something about my weird behavior but I can't even fucking look at him right now. This is starting to get old. I need to get my shit together. Am I gay or am I straight? That's what I need to figure out first. Once I do that, I can figure out all my other feelings.

My experiment on the beach didn't tell me anything, so that means there's only one thing I can do.

I need a computer.


	9. Don't Call Me By My Full Name

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Nine: Don't Call Me By My Full Name **

I wonder where I can find a computer. Maybe there's a library nearby... But how would I explain that I want to go to the library while we're in Spain? Hmm...

I feel a lot better now that I (once again) have a semblance of a plan. I like knowing what I'm going to do. The four of us chill in the hotel room for a while, and I kind of want to take a nap before dinner, because I _am_ pretty worn out, but Cartman has other plans.

"These trunks are so dirty," he says, holding up Kenny's swimming suit. "I'll go wash them before we go to dinner." He collects the other suits from where we've half-hazardously thrown them on the floor. "Come with me, Kyle." He says as he walks to the door. I know immediately that he wants to talk about what happened last night. I follow him back out the door without a fuss because I figure I might as well get it over with.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we walk to the end of the hall.

"To wash these," Cartman sneers, holding up the trunks. "Idiot," he adds on.

I huff and cross my arms over my chest. We find a small wash room and go in. Cartman closes the door behind me. There's one overhead light in the room and no windows. It's a tiny little place with a washer and dryer pushed against the wall.

"Are we even allowed in here?" I ask.

"Who cares?" Cartman says as he throws the suits into the washing machine with some soap and presses start. The sound of the machine running becomes background noise. Cartman turns around. He's closer than I want him to be, and it makes me slightly uncomfortable. That's probably why he picked to have this conversation in this particular room. I lean against the dryer, trying to put some space between us, and wait as Cartman studies me thoughtfully.

"What do you want, Cartman?" I finally ask when all he does is look at me.

He blinks. "I just want to know what happened."

"You want to know what happened," I repeat.

"Yes. You see, I thought about blackmailing you. Making you be my personal slave for the day in order to keep me quiet." He smirks then, and I thank whatever God there is that he's not going to to that. "But then I thought, 'No. That would be too easy. What would really torture Kyle was if he had to discuss his feelings with me.'"

I gape at him. He's right, of course. He knows me way too well. "I'm not discussing anything with you, fat ass," I tell him angrily.

"You don't have a choice!" Cartman says. He's really excited about this. "Unless you want me to go back in that room and tell Stan and Kenny that I saw you leave with a pretty little Spanish girl last night..." I glare at him as he pauses dramatically "... and then we find you sitting outside the room. And you had so obviously been crying." He raises his eyebrows.

Shit. He's got me. I don't want him to say anything to Stan and Kenny because then the two of them will want to talk about it, and I'm just not ready yet. I want to keep this to myself for at least a little while. And if Cartman arouses Stan's curiosity about this, I know that Stan won't stop until he gets some answers.

"Fine," I say, hating every moment of this conversation. "So you just want to know what happened when we went out of the club and if I tell you you'll forget the whole thing?"

Cartman ponders this for a moment. "Yes," he says, "But you need to tell me the truth. And I'll know if you're lying to me, Jew." He narrows his eyes.

I sigh. "I agree with your terms," I say. "But why do you even care?" This I am curious about.

"I don't care," Cartman says right away. "I merely want to know for knowledgeable purposes."

"You can't tell anyone, dumb ass!" I say.

"Calm your tits, I'm not gonna tell anyone! Now enough with the small talk. Spill it, Jew. I saw her drag you out of the club."

"Yeah, she dragged me outside," I begin, breaking our eye contact. I'm not going to tell Cartman the whole truth (I'm not a complete idiot!) but I know I have to tell him at least part of the truth, otherwise he'll know I'm lying. He can read me like a fucking book. "And then she started kissing me," I continue, subconsciously making a disgusted face. "It wasn't pleasant," I tell him, looking down at my feet.

"And then what?" Cartman asks. He looks genuinely interested.

"And then she..." Hmm. How should I word this? "Then she..." I scratch my cheek in thought. Cartman is gesturing for me to continue. "And then she... I don't really know of a nice way to say this."

"Just spit it out!"

"She pulled down my pants and started sucking my dick!"

Silence. I cover my mouth with my hands and stare at Cartman, wide eyed. I was expecting him to laugh, which would have been pretty fucking terrible, but he just stares back at me. He doesn't look happy or sad or angry or anything. He just looks... shocked.

"What?" He whispers.

"You heard me!" I tell him, cheeks flaming. I'm thoroughly embarrassed now.

Cartman clears his throat. "Well, what happened after that?"

"Nothing," I mumble. "I came back here to the hotel to wait for you guys."

Cartman doesn't say anything more, and the washer stopped its cycling some time ago, so it's completely silent in the tiny room.

"So that's it?" Cartman finally says. I look at him sharply. He's turned around to open the washer. He takes out our swim trunks and opens the door to the room without looking at me. "How boring," he says as he walks out.

I stare at the door. Boring? I'm standing here with my heart beating out of my chest and he says it's _boring?_ I don't think he could have come up with a more insulting word if he tried. I stand there for a while, just thinking about nothing. I guess I should be glad that he didn't ask any more questions. He didn't even ask why I was crying. I should be thankful for that.

So why do I feel... disappointed?

- KB -

For dinner, we decide to pick a place to eat that's along the main street. Kenny wants to go back to the club, but, surprisingly, Cartman insists that we do something else tonight. I can't help but wonder if he did that to help me out. But that would be weird. Why would he care if I don't want to go back to the club?

To be honest, I don't really know what to feel. It seems like Cartman isn't going to tell Stan and Kenny what happened, so we're technically sharing a secret together. It's strange because I usually only share secrets with Stan. Of course, Stan doesn't _force_ me to share my secrets with him...

When we go back down to the lobby of the hotel I see that there are a few computers with an internet connection in a small lounge area. That's good news - now I won't have to find a library. I plan on getting up early tomorrow morning so that I can come down here and use a computer unnoticed.

I have fettuccine alfredo pasta and a large glass of milk for dinner. It's delicious. Luckily, there's some sort of live show going on at the restaurant we chose to eat at, and we've decided to stay and watch it. I hope it lasts a long time.

It turns out that the show is a competition of some sort. I don't know what the announcers are saying, but it's still fun to watch the contestants compete. There's a group of dancers who are really good, a few people sing, and someone even does a few magic tricks. The voting for each contestant is rated on how much applause they get and there's a winner chosen by the end of the night - a girl who played the piano blindfolded. I don't know what type of prize she gets, but she certainly looks happy.

By the time we exit the restaurant it is too late to do anything else, so we go back to the hotel. After brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed I set an alarm on my phone to ring for early tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'll be able to sneak out of the room and go to the computer lounge without the others noticing.

- KB -

When my alarm rings the next morning, it feels like I just fell asleep. I can barely open my eyes. I shrug on a pair of shorts from my suitcase and leave, quickly checking that I have a key with me. I fully plan on crawling back into bed and falling asleep again once I finish my research.

There's one person working at the front desk in the lobby. She smiles at me tiredly as I walk by. Thankfully it's early enough that no one is using any computers. I boot one up and wait until it loads with my head in my hands. What I'm about to do is slightly embarrassing, and something I would never do if I knew that anyone else was watching. I connect myself to the internet and go to Google. I type "Am I gay?" into the search bar and press enter. I look around to make sure no one is watching as it loads. I'm completely alone.

I know it's ridiculous, but I have to start somewhere. I click on the first website that comes up from the search and am taken to a page called_ The Gay Test - How Gay Are You? _I stifle a snort into my palm and click on "Take the test!" I answer a series of questions that are completely ridiculous. How can I possibly tell that I'm gay based on how much I spent on my last haircut? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

I submit my answers and learn that I am thirty percent gay. The description tells me "you're not gay, but you could be a little straighter if you know what I mean, darling." I roll my eyes and click out of the page. This time I scroll down a bit and actually look at the website I will be visiting. I choose one that looks promising:_ The Real Gay (for men) Test. _

I start at question one:

1) First, what do you consider yourself? I select the "curious" option.

2) How often do you shave? I sigh heavily, selecting "never."

3) Have you ever shaved anything other than your face? Uh, no?

The fourth question is simply "Underwear?" to which I answer "boxers." I laugh; one of the answer options is "thong or women's underwear." If a guys wears a thong I'm pretty sure he already knows he's gay.

5) Have you ever worn women's clothes? Well... Once or twice... But Cartman has worn women's clothes more than anyone else I know, and he's certainly not gay! These questions are stupid...

6) Have you ever kissed a man? Finally, a question that requires some actual thought! I've never kissed a man, and after a bit of thought I select the "No, but I would like to try it," option. I'm trying to be open minded here!

7) What about a woman? Hmm. Yes, I've kissed a woman before, and it was nice. I grimace, choosing the "Yes, but I wouldn't do it again," option, since it's the closest thing to what I feel.

8) Do you go tanning a lot? No. But that's because my pasty complexion burns up in the sun.

9) Have you ever looked at gay porn? This question makes me blush a little bit, even though I know I'm alone in the lounge. No, I have never looked at gay porn. But I have looked at hetero porn and not been aroused. Does that count for anything?

Question ten is simply "Masturbation?" to which I answer "every now and then."

11) What about sex toys? No! I can feel my cheeks heating. Absolutely not! Next question!

12) Have you ever had oral performed on you by a man? What the fuck kind of question is that? Of course not! Jesus Christ!

The thirteenth question confuses me. It only says "Performed?" with a yes or no answer. I click on "yes" even though I have no idea what that means.

14) What about penetration? I put my head in my hands and groan. I've never had sex before, let alone sex with a _man!_ Mother fuck!

15) Last one, do you think I'm gay? I assume that it's referring to the writer of this quiz. I select the "yes" option and submit my answers.

According to the results, I am "The Straight Bi Guy." Apparently I "like women but would consider going for men just as well. Maybe I am in denial or am a closet hider." I groan. Am I in denial? I don't know! That's why I'm doing this stupid "research" which isn't helping me at all!

But really, what was I expecting? There's no easy answer to this. Everyone is different. I clear the history on the computer and shut it down, deciding I may as well head back up to the room. After a long elevator ride up to our floor I open the door quietly and slip inside. They're all still asleep, so I take off my shorts and slip into the bed next to Stan quietly.

Despite the fact that it's still early in the morning and I am very tired, I can't seem to fall asleep. I know why my "research" was unsuccessful. I've never had experience doing gay things in real life, so how am I supposed to know if I like it? I've kissed girls, and that's all right, but what about guys? I won't know if I like it or not if I never try it! And if I try something and I like it, then I'll have my answer, won't I?

So, the next question is whether I should try something with someone I know or a complete stranger. I know that I don't want to try anything with Stan or Kenny or Cartman, so if I want to try something with someone I know I'll have to wait until I get back to South Park. That sounds like a good idea... but do I really want to wait? The thing is, I still don't want to do something with someone I don't know. But maybe...

I realize that I'm thinking about this way too much. I decide that I won't start anything, but if a guy is interested I'll explore if I feel like it. Otherwise, I can wait until I get back to South Park.

Even though I now have that resolved, my mind still won't shut off. I keep thinking about a few of those questions in the second quiz. I've never thought about a guy in a sexual way before. At least, not consciously. I wonder what penetration would feel like. It scares me a little bit that I'm actually curious. I wonder what it would be like to kiss a guy. It would be so completely different from kissing a girl... I imagine hardness and large hands and heat. I wouldn't have to be gentle, not with a man.

I feel a tingle of arousal in my groin. Shit. I shouldn't be contemplating these things while I'm laying next to Stan. It's just rude. I look at the clock. It's seven in the morning. I'm surprised at how much time has passed. I decide that I might as well get up now and shower before the others. I find a fresh change of clothes and inject myself with insulin before I take my shower. The water is warm and soft, and the shampoo is scented with vanilla. It smells heavenly.

I remember that tingling I felt earlier and decide I might as well continue that train of thought. I lather my hands with soap, rubbing them all over my body, cleaning myself thoroughly, leaving my cock for last. I don't have a specific guy in mind as I start my ministrations, I just know that he's big - a lot bigger than me. He touches my cock, almost reverently at first, then firmer. He knows what he's doing. I moan into my hand. It feels like my whole body is flushing.

The faceless man takes me into his mouth. I tremble and groan quietly. He slowly moves his head forward, taking me all the way down in his throat. He doesn't stop until his nose is buried in my pubic hair. Fuck. I continue stroking myself in the shower and slowly slide one of my fingers along my butt crack. I stop before I get to my asshole, but I like the feeling of my finger trailing along the skin nearby. It's very sensitive and sends pleasurable shivers up and down my spine, and I finally climax into the shower, stifling a moan.

I clean myself off and step out of the shower. Well, that was... fun. Why is it so much more exciting to think of having sex with a guy? I honestly have no idea. It just is. I can't believe I'm just realizing this now. I lean against the sink, fully clothed, just thinking.

"Kyle?" Stan asks, knocking on the bathroom door. "You in there?"

"Yeah," I call back, opening the door. "I just finished, it's all yours," I tell him, giving him a smile as I walk out.

"Cool," he says. He seems relieved. Kenny and Cartman are also just waking up. I turn the TV on and sit on the sofa bed next to Kenny.

"What're we going to do today?" I ask him.

"Haven't thought about it yet," he yawns. Kenny's not a morning person. He stands up and stretches, pulling his arms over his head, reaching towards the ceiling. The movement makes his shirt ride up and I get a nice view of his abdomen. His boxers are also low enough that I can see the top of the V muscle that leads down to his groin. Kenny catches me staring.

"Like what you see?" he asks me quietly, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Fuck off," I tell him, smiling, because, yes, I do like what I see.

And I'm finally beginning to realize that it's okay.


	10. All This Is Temporary

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Ten: All This Is Temporary **

I have pancakes for breakfast. I don't like syrup or butter on my pancakes, so I eat them plain. Cartman makes fun of me and calls me a Jew, and I'm just glad that things are back to normal (or as normal as they get for us). The four of us decide that we're sick of swimming and we'd rather find something else to do today. After breakfast we visit the same computer lounge where I was earlier this morning and look up fun places to visit in the area.

There are obviously tons and tons of things to do, and we spend a bit of time making our decision. I think it would be interesting to visit a museum, while Kenny wants to go to an aquarium, and Stan of course wants to explore the outdoors, and Cartman just complains about each of our suggestions, as usual.

"What about paintball?" Stan says.

"I've never played paintball before," Kenny says, looking at the computer screen Stan is looking at. I shift to look at it as well.

"I have no objections," I say.

"Sounds kick ass," Cartman says, and just like that we know what we're going to do today. We look at further information before we leave. The paintball place located in Oviedo, which isn't too far away, but we decide that we'll take a bus to get there because taking a cab would be really fucking expensive. To be honest, I'm just glad I won't have to sit on anyone's lap during the ride there.

"Dudes, this must be a new record, or something," Kenny says as he takes his seat. I sit next to Stan and Cartman sits behind us.

"What record?" I raise one eyebrow in question.

"I haven't died in, like, a long time!"

"Hmm," Stan says. He's texting with Wendy at the moment.

"Congrats, dude," I tell him, deadpan. "You probably just jinxed it, though."

"Fuck!" Kenny says. "Can a person die by paintball?"

"I doubt it, but if anyone can, it's you," I tell him.

I feel someone tugging on a lock of my Jew fro and turn around in annoyance. "What, Cartman?"

"Just checking."

"Checking what?" I ask, irritated.

"Just ignore, him, dude," Stan says, pulling me back down into the seat. A few of the other passengers on the bus give me strange looks. I ignore them. Stan is still texting Wendy, so I sit quietly and look out the window. A few minutes later I feel more tugging on my hair and barely resist turning around. No, I won't do it. Cartman just wants to get a rise out of me.

I try to hold my resolve, but he just keeps tugging and tugging, and _I can't take it anymore!_ "_What_, Cartman!?" I turn around to glare at him. I don't really know why I'm so pissed off, but yelling at Cartman is always fun. "Stop tugging on my fucking hair!" I tell him.

"Or what?" he smirks at me.

"Or I'll kick your ass!"

"Ha! I'd like to see you try, you scrawny Jew!"

_"Fuck you, Cartman!" _

_"Not even if you begged, faggot!" _

"Whoa!" Stan exclaims as I hurl myself over the back of the seat, landing in a confused heap on the seat next to Cartman. I can hear Cartman laughing as I try to straighten myself out.

"You fucking asshole," I tell him, hitting him on the shoulder.

"You're such a spaz, Kyle," Cartman says, still chuckling.

"Whatever," I tell him. I don't even remember what we were yelling about. "It's your fault," I tell him in a matter-of-fact voice, and he nods.

"I know," he says, and he even looks a bit happy about it.

I decide that doesn't justify an answer and start to get up to go back to my seat, but see that Kenny is now sitting next to Stan. "Move, Kenny," I tell him.

"No, dude, just sit back there," he says, and I don't feel like arguing anymore. I sit back down next to Cartman with a defeated sigh.

After that, the bus ride is, thankfully, quiet, and we arrive at the paintball establishment soon enough. We step off the bus and are met with a small brown building. There's a field next to the building that looks like an obstacle course with all sorts of things to hide behind and jump over and stuff. There's also a forest behind the building.

"Sweet," Cartman says.

We walk into the building, and I'm glad to see that it's not busy. We buy a few full games and the workers make us watch a safety video (with English subtitles) before we're allowed to put on our gear. It's just a waste of time. Like four teenage boys give a fuck about safety?

"Finally," Kenny says when we're led to the back of the building to put on our suits. We're each given a full-body suit which (thank God) covers every part of our body, including our hair. We also get a vest and a pair of boots. After we're done getting dressed we all just sort of look at each other.

"We look like retarded scuba divers." Cartman says. I actually agree with him, for once.

"Who cares?" Kenny says. "Let's go get our guns!" He races out of the room.

"You couldn't sound more like white trash if you tried, Kenny," Cartman says, following him.

Stan and I roll our eyes at each other and exit the room as well. We're each given a large paintball gun and are led outside. The instructor goes over the rules the best he can in English, and then we're finally given free reign. There are three different "arenas" we can choose to play in - only one group can play in an arena at a time, which I'm thankful for because I don't want some stranger shooting me with little balls of paint. We decide that our first game will be a free-for-all ("Every man for himself!" Cartman yells) and so we choose to play in the forest arena. That way, there are plenty of trees to hide behind.

Each game lasts ten minutes and we all start from different parts of the arena. I duck down behind a particularly corpulent tree, gun in hand, and wait for the whistle that signals the start of the game. After the whistle blows, I peek my head around the tree trunk. I grin. This is perfect. I can shoot Cartman and I won't even get in trouble for it! Of course, he won't die, but at least I'll get to hurt him a little bit!

I don't want to waste my precious game time, so I start moving through the trees, crouching down, beginning my hunt for Cartman. This is where being short and small comes to my advantage. I hear yelling close by and head in that direction, hiding behind some bushes. Kenny and Stan are shooting at each other, hiding behind the trees and alternately laughing and swearing when they hit each other and are hit themselves. It's actually really funny to watch. I don't see Cartman anywhere, so I begin my search for him once again.

I'm only a few feet into the open when I hear a loud, "JEW!" and then I'm pelted in the back with paint balls.

"Aghh!" I scream, diving for cover behind the nearest tree. "That fucking hurt!" I yell, but I'm laughing at the same time. "You're mine, Cartman!" I yell as I come out of cover, pulling the trigger on my gun. I manage to get a good few smacks in on Cartman before he ducks behind a tree. It's a good thing Cartman is so big, cause my aim is pretty shitty.

Cartman and I continue shooting paint balls at each other, running out of cover and switching trees. Eventually Stan and Kenny get caught up in it, and Stan hides in the same tree as me. Even though it's supposed to be a free-for-all, Stan says, "Truce, dude?"

"Hell yeah," I say, and we bump fists. "Let's gang up on Cartman." Stan laughs and agrees. We know which tree Cartman is hiding behind, so it's only a matter of the two of us running at him from different angles. He can't shoot both of us at once, after all. We surround him and he yells angrily as we pelt him with paint balls. He starts running away, and one of my shots hits him square on the ass.

"EY!" He yells, and I nearly drop my gun, I'm laughing so hard. Suddenly there's a loud whistle which signals the end of the game. Cartman tries to shoot at me but his gun isn't working anymore. "God dammit!" he shouts. "You guys! This was a free-for-all! Every man for himself! You're not supposed to pussy out and make teams!"

"You're just pissed cause we kicked your ass!" Stan says.

"Oh yeah?" Cartman grabs Kenny by his sleeve. "Me and Kenny versus you and Kyle. We'll see who's laughing then!"

"You're on!" I yell, and we start another game.

During this game I learn that Kenny is like a fucking pro sharp shooter or something, I swear he hits me every time he pulls the trigger, but Stan and I still beat them because our team work is a lot better. We play our third game in a different arena and this time Kenny is on my team. We both agree that we'll only aim for Cartman, and it's the best thing ever - watching Kenny hit Cartman as he runs through the different obstacles. We end up losing the game, since Stan shot us while we were focused on Cartman, but it was so worth it to watch Cartman run and scream. I know I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.

We decide to play one last game because Stan wants to be on Kenny's team, claiming that it's only fair. I grumble at this, since I'll have to be on the same team as Cartman, but it's so fun that I don't really mind. We've moved to the last arena; this one has a hill that would be a perfect place to shoot from. Cartman also notices this.

"To the hill, Jew!" he tells me before the game starts. The whistle blows and we sprint for the hill at the edge of the plot of land. Stan and Kenny look confused as they chase us. I make it to the top of the hill before Cartman and start shooting at Stan and Kenny, who are both just reaching the bottom of the hill. The hill is pretty steep, so they can't run and shoot at the same time. They try anyway, shooting the paint balls at random as they stagger up the hill. Cartman and I are pummeling them, and they both give up before the game is over.

"What the fuck," Kenny says as we come down the hill at the end of the game. "We're better than you guys. How the hell did you win?"

"You may have better aim," Cartman begins, "But we have all the brainpower." He smirks.

I smile because Cartman paid me an unintentional compliment, and he doesn't even seem to notice.

We change back into our every day clothes and leave, paying on our way out. "That was so awesome," I laugh.

"Yeah," Stan agrees. "I'm so hungry, though. Let's go eat lunch."

We all agree and stop to eat at the first place we find. The restaurant sells hot grilled sandwiches and right then it feels like it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I feel pleasantly full when I'm done eating, and I lounge back against the bench seat, closing my eyes. I could definitely go for a nap right now.

"I still want to go to the aquarium," Kenny says.

"Sounds good to me," Stan says, looking to me for approval. I shrug.

"Sure," I say. At this point I'm fine with doing anything, as long as it doesn't involve any arduous physical exercise.

Kenny remembers the address of the aquarium and we use public transportation once again to get there. My eyelids start to droop during the ride, and I end up falling asleep for most of it. I wake up when Stan nudges me, and I blush when I realize my head has been resting on his shoulder. Stan is just too nice to push me off. I smile sheepishly at Stan and yawn, feeling comfortable. An afternoon nap was just what I needed.

It's weird to think that just early this morning I was researching if I was gay or not. I always make such a big deal out of everything. I roll my eyes at myself.

The building that holds the aquarium is humongous. We walk inside and the first thing we see is a large gift shop, of course. We go to the counter and each buy a ticket. It's not cheap; I'm worried that Kenny is spending all of his money. He doesn't say anything, though, and I decide not to, either, because I don't want to make him feel bad.

We ride on an escalator to get down into the actual exhibits. When we get all the way down it's like we're actually in an aquarium; we're completely surrounded by the glass. It's even above our heads! I look up as we walk, enjoying watching the different fish swim above me. I can't do this for long, though, since I keep running into things.

I'm glad that we chose to come here; it's really beautiful. We follow the path at a leisurely pace. I always stop and read the different descriptions of the fishes. It's interesting to see where each fish came from and their special features. Unfortunately, I'm the only one who feels this way.

"Come on, Kyle!" Cartman says. "We'll be here all night at the rate we're going!"

"I like to read about the fish, Cartman!" I say, not even turning to look at him. "Plus, I'm just getting my money's worth."

Cartman grumbles something about Jews and money, but I ignore him in favor of learning more about the clown triggerfish. I see one swim lazily by and study it with interest. It has large white dots on its belly.

We eventually make it to the shark section of the aquarium, which is by far the best part. There's so many sharks, and they're all so huge! I have a slightly irrational fear that one of them will try to attack me and will break the glass. I know it's stupid, but I can tell the sharks want to eat me. They keep swimming right at me and then changing direction right before they reach the glass, eyeing me hungrily.

"I think they want to eat me," I say to no one in particular, and Cartman laughs. Stan and Kenny have gone ahead a bit, but I've stayed back to read about the sharks. Cartman has stayed as well, though I don't understand why, since he was the one who was complaining about my slow pace. I don't say anything, though, cause I don't really mind. Cartman is tolerable when he keeps his mouth shut.

The last part of the aquarium tour is in a large room with different open aquariums where people can actually touch the creatures if they want to. Cartman and I find Stan and Kenny by the shark pool, reaching their arms in.

"Try it, Kyle!" Kenny tells me when we reach them. I look into the water. The sharks are tame, and I know they won't bite my fingers off or anything, but I just shrug.

"You have no idea how much bacteria is in that water," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Kenny rolls his eyes and Stan just smiles at me. The three of them spend quite a bit of time touching sting rays who have had their stingers cut off ("You _have_ to try this, Kyle, they're so _slimy_!") and then we go to the last tank, which is also the largest. There's a man made waterfall at the edge that splashes water down every few minutes.

This tank is definitely my favorite. There's a huge selection of different types of coral and other sea creatures that live on the bottom of the shallow parts of the ocean. There's anemones and starfish and sponges. It's really colorful. I don't want to touch the anemones (where are their mouths?) but I gently touch different starfish and sponges with the tips of my fingers.

By the time we end our tour it's evening and we're all hungry for dinner. We find a McDonalds on a nearby street corner and decide to eat there. I order chicken nuggets and french fries (no sauce) and splurge on a chocolate shake.

"It's getting kind of late," Stan says while we're eating. "We should probably just head back to the hotel to repack and stuff, since we have to leave for the cruise ship tomorrow morning."

"Already?" Kenny asks. "It feels like we just got here!"

"Yes, already," I say, agreeing with Stan. "We've been here two full days. The captain said to be back on the ship on the morning of the third day." I eat a chicken nugget. "And we're going to be early, because I don't want the ship to leave without us."

"Yeah, yeah, calm your ginger ass," Cartman says. "We'll get there with plenty of time in the morning."

"We better," I warn, and Cartman rolls his eyes.

On the bus ride back to the hotel I feel groggy and uncomfortable from all the sugar and fat I just consumed. I take a shower right away once we get back, and it makes me feel a bit better, but ultimately just contributes to my sleepiness. I'm half asleep by the time Stan joins me in the bed. All the lights are turned off; Kenny is snoring softly on the sofa bed and Cartman is silent in the bed he has all to himself.

Stan turns to face me. I know this even though my eyes are closed. "Kyle," he whispers.

"Hmm?" I respond.

"Are you excited to go to the Caribbean?"

"Yeah," I answer. "We can go snorkeling and stuff. It'll be awesome."

"Yeah." It's silent for a while. "Kyle?" Stan asks again.

"Hmm?"

Stan hesitates. "Never mind."

"Okay," I sigh, pretty much already asleep.

When I wake up, I can't remember what I was dreaming about, but I know it was a good dream, the kind that makes me want to fall back to sleep so that I can continue it. But I know I have to get out of bed.

We make it back to the cruise ship with plenty of time to spare. The ship leaves right on schedule, heading South to the Caribbean islands.


	11. It Feels Much Better To Know

**The Steps To Success**

**Step One: The Planning**

**Chapter Eleven: It Feels Much Better To Know **

We have the same room on the ship as before and we get situated quickly before heading back up to the deck.

"So what's there to do that we haven't done yet?" Kenny asks. We're standing against the railing of the cruise ship, relaxing. The ocean breeze is fresh and the sun is bright and high in the sky.

Stan shrugs. None of us have a brochure so we don't have anything to look at.

"We haven't been to the very top level of the ship yet," I say. "There could be something fun to do up there."

"Good idea, Kyle," Stan says. "Let's go check it out."

There's no objection, so a few minutes later we find ourselves on the very top of the ship. I'm winded from the walk up the stairs that we had to take to get up here. We're so high that when I look down over the guard rail the people on the deck below look like ants.

"Dude!" Kenny says, pulling my attention back. "Look at that!" We look in the direction he's pointing.

"Is that..." Stan begins.

"A zip line?" I finish, my mouth hanging open in astonishment.

"Fucking sweet!" Kenny yells. He starts running over to the zip line and we follow him at a slower pace. "It's free!" Kenny tells us when we reach him.

"A poor man's dream," Cartman says under his breath. I hold back a smile.

"I'm going first!" Kenny says, getting into line. It's not very long. Stan and Cartman get into line after him and I follow, not wanting to look like a pussy.

The zip line goes from one end of the deck all the way to the other, high above the other activities happening up here. It's so windy up here on the very top of the ship that I'm surprised the zip line hasn't snapped by now, or something. It just seems so unsafe. But people have been using it the whole trip and nothing's happened yet, so...

I mean, if Kenny dies he'll come back eventually. But what about the rest of us? I keep my mouth shut about my concerns as it gets closer and closer to being Kenny's turn. When we finally get there the attendant puts a helmet on Kenny's head and straps him into a harness.

"Hold on tight," he tells Kenny, handing him the bar connected to the line. Kenny grabs on and looks back at us with a grin.

"Three, two, one!" The attendant says, and then he pushes Kenny forward, activating the ride. Kenny speeds away down the line, screaming and laughing all the way. We watch as Kenny gets off at the other end and the bar and harness are sent back. I sigh with relief. If Kenny didn't die, that means it's safe for the rest of us.

Stan goes next, and then it's Cartman's turn. "Don't pussy out, Kyle." Cartman says to me as the attendant straps him in. I can hear Kenny and Stan cheering on the other side of the ship.

"I won't, fat ass," I say.

Cartman opens his mouth to retort, probably to say he's not fat, but then the attendant pushes him and he whooshes away, yelling loudly.

My heart beats fast with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as I climb up the small stand when it's my turn. The attendant straps me into the harness and hands me the bar, which I grip painfully hard. I can't believe I'm doing this. This is crazy. What if the zip line breaks? Or the harness? I'll go crashing down to my death!

"Three, two..." The attendant starts counting down.

"Wait!" I say, suddenly terrified, wanting to change my mind, but it's too late.

"One!" He finishes, giving me a hard shove.

The breath whooshes out of me as I fly forward and I can't even scream. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," I mutter to myself as I look down at all the people doing various activities below me as I rush by above them. The ride lasts about thirty seconds and I reach the other end safely, carefully putting my feet on the deck.

The three of them grin at me.

"How was it?" Kenny asks. "You look a bit green."

"I think I might be sick," I say, holding my stomach, and they laugh. I laugh, too, cause my voice sounds really pathetic. "What else is there to do up here?" I ask, trying to sound more normal.

"Looks like there's some kind of contest going on over there," Stan says, pointing to a crowd.

"Well, let's go see what it is," Kenny says. We push our way through the crowd until we can see what's going on in the center. When we finally manage to get there, I see two men sitting at a table, arm wrestling.

"An arm wrestling competition?" I say. Just after I've said it the larger man slams down the arm of his opponent, laughing victoriously.

"I win again!" A few people in the crowd cheer and the loser sulks off. "Would anyone else care to challenge me to an arm wrestle? Is anyone man enough?" He looks around at the crowd; no one volunteers. The man is not excessively buff or anything like that but I know I wouldn't win an arm wrestle with him in a million years - not even if my life depended on it.

"You should do it, Cartman," Stan says quietly.

Cartman turns to him, surprised. "What? Why? Arm wrestling is stupid."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, and Cartman wouldn't win, anyway," I say.

"What? Yes I would, Jew boy!"

"I bet you can't!"

"Is that a challenge?" Cartman questions, his eyebrows raising. "I'll take that bet. And if I win you have to get on your hands and knees in front of me and say 'Cartman is the king'."

"Fine!" I say, cause I'm confident he won't win. "And if I win, you have to proclaim your undying love for all Jewish people!" I don't really know where I came up with that, but it's safe to say I'm pretty worked up.

"Fine!" he says to me before turning around and yelling, "I'll do it!"

"Good, good!" The arm-wrestling man says as he takes his seat. Cartman takes the seat across from him and we all move closer. The two of them put their elbows on the table and clasp hands. "Start... now!"

The two of them start pushing furiously against each other's hands, and I feel panic start to rise in my throat when Cartman's hand doesn't budge. In fact, he's starting to slowly gain the advantage over the muscle man. Cartman is winning! No! Oh, God, why did I agree to that bet? Why do I get myself into these situations?

"Almost... there!" Cartman grunts. I watch in horror as the previous arm wrestling champion tries in vain not to lose. A few seconds later Cartman slams his hand against the table and stands up with a shout, victorious. "Yes!" he laughs.

The crowd is cheering around him, and someone says, "Our new arm wrestling champion!" but Cartman doesn't even notice. He's staring at me, smiling and walking towards me. There's a pit of dread and resigned acceptance sitting in my gut.

"Kyle?" Cartman says when he reaches me. "Our deal?" He just won't stop smiling.

"Not here, dude!" I say quietly, looking around at the crowd around us.

"We didn't specify a time and place, and since I won I get to choose, and I want it here and now, in front of everyone."

"God dammit, Cartman," I say, turning to Stan and Kenny for help.

Kenny shrugs and Stan says, "He did win, dude," giving me an apologetic look.

I stand in angry silence for a moment. "Fine," I sigh, and I slowly get down on my knees.

"Hands, too," Cartman says. He's not smiling anymore, just looking down at me with an intense expression that I can't decipher. I grit my teeth and get on my hands and knees. This is humiliating. But, I brought it on myself. "Say it," Cartman tells me, his voice deadly quiet. Everything is quiet, now. I can feel the people around us staring at me.

"Cartman is the king," I mutter quietly, my head down. A heated flush creeps its way across my chest and face.

"Louder," Cartman says. "I didn't hear you."

"Cartman is the king," I say again. My knees are starting to hurt. I stare at Cartman's shoes.

"Louder," Cartman says again, breathlessly, and I finally give in.

"Cartman is the king!" I yell, looking up at him, breathing heavily. His facial expression catches me off guard. His eyes are glazed over and his mouth is slightly open. He looks dazed. He reaches his hand out as if he's going to cup my face and I flinch back, sitting up on my knees. No one says anything. I can't stop staring at Cartman. He's just looking at me like I'm so... I don't know what. But no one has ever looked at me like that before. Its making my heart beat faster.

Then, someone nearby starts laughing, and the connection is broken. We both look away and I stand up, feeling self conscious.

"What a faggot!" someone says, pointing at me, laughing. I grimace.

"Ey!" Cartman says. "Who the fuck said that? I'll kick your ass!" He starts advancing on the teenager who said it, who now looks terrified, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Sorry!" he yelps as Cartman towers over him, looking positively furious.

"Damn right you're sorry!" Cartman says. I step in to stop him before he starts throwing punches and gets us all in trouble.

"It's all right, Cartman," I say. "Who cares what this guy thinks, anyway." I grab Cartman's arm, and he walks away with me, glaring over his shoulder at the teen every few moments. I let go of Cartman when we get back to Stan and Kenny. I sigh. "Why does it matter if he calls me a faggot, anyway?" I ask Cartman. "You do it all the time."

"Yeah," Cartman says, huffing. "Cause it's true. But that guy doesn't even know you."

I roll my eyes. "You make no sense," I tell him. He crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing. "Thanks, though," I say, which surprises both of us. I turn to engage Stan and Kenny in conversation before I can say anything else embarrassing. I honestly don't mind if someone calls me a fag, (even if I'm now realizing it's true) but it's nice to be defended, even if Cartman is the one doing the defending, which in itself is even weirder to contemplate.

We decide now is a good time to break for lunch and go down to the dining room. The conversation is a little awkward and forced for a while, since neither Cartman nor I feel like talking, but it's all right. We spend the afternoon at another IMAX presentation which is fine with me even though I can hardly concentrate on the screen. I keep thinking about what happened before. I keep remembering Cartman's expression, and it makes me feel hot, but in a good way. And when he reached out his hand... was he going to touch my cheek? My hair? I blush just thinking about it, sinking lower in my seat.

After the IMAX Kenny wants to go back to the casino, and I don't object. I sit next to them in a chair, not playing, but the dealer doesn't seem to mind. Stan sits next to me, not playing, either, and we talk for a while. I remember the night before when Stan wanted to talk to me about something, but when I ask him about it he just waves me off, saying it wasn't important. I shrug, still sort of lost in my own thoughts.

Kenny actually wins some money this time, and his good mood is infectious. "I've got more now than when I started this trip!" He says happily as we leave the casino, and I'm glad for him. It's getting late so we go to eat dinner. We've been eating for a little while when the Captain of the ship walks on to the stage in the front of the room.

"Just a small announcement," he says into the microphone he's holding, and the chatter slowly dies. "It's nothing to worry about," he says first, which is not a good sign, "I just wanted to let everyone know that a small storm was spotted nearby." There are gasps and worried questions. "Please, don't worry," the Captain says. "We'll most likely miss it completely, it's nothing to worry about," he repeats himself. "Just make sure you review the safety procedures." He then gets off the stage and exits the room.

"A storm, huh?" Stan says. "What do you think?" he turns to me.

I shrug. "I'm just wondering why we have to review safety procedures if there's 'nothing to worry about'," I say. "But, I guess it's better to be safe than sorry."

Cartman scoffs but doesn't say anything. We stay in the dining hall for a bit after we're done eating to watch the after dinner show, which features a comedian I've never heard of. All the lights are down except for a few shining on the stage and I lean back in my padded chair, feeling relaxed. The comedian is pretty funny, but I start to drift off about halfway through his show. When it's done, Stan wakes me up and the four of us walk back to our room, my hand holding the back of Stan's shirt, my eyes barely opening.

I get ready for bed first, brushing my teeth and slipping off my shorts, folding them neatly as I walk out of the bathroom. I slip under the covers of the bed that I will be sharing with Kenny, to my immense relief. I don't know what I'd do if I had to share a bed with Cartman. I sigh and listen to the sounds of my friends getting ready for bed. I'm so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open, but my mind won't shut up. There's just so much to think about, like what we'll do on the ship tomorrow, when we'll reach the Caribbean islands, what we'll do in the Caribbean, what Stan wanted to talk to me about, and don't even get me started on Cartman. Fuck.

All the lights turn off and I feel Kenny slide into the bed behind me. I'm facing away from him, and he must think I'm asleep because I feel him gingerly put his arm around me, pulling my back to his chest. He sighs and relaxes against me and starts snoring soon after. I smile a little bit to myself. It's kind of cute. I would never tell Kenny that, though, cause he would probably hit me. Not hard or anything, but still.

When Kenny holds me like this it doesn't make my heart beat faster or anything. But if Cartman did this, I would be burning up like crazy. I try to think about the difference between the two. I guess it's just that I know Kenny's touches are platonic - completely friendly.

Cartman, on the other hand, is not exactly my enemy anymore, but not really a close friend, either. He's just Cartman, and when he touches me, it definitely doesn't feel platonic. It feels... meaningful. I dwell on this for a while until I finally fall asleep.

- KB -

I hear screaming, and at first I assume it's part of my dream, but then I feel someone shaking me awake.

"Wake up, Kyle!" Stan says. "You, too, Kenny!"

"What?" I grumble blearily, rubbing my eyes. I try to sit up, but it's hard to do with Kenny's leg holding me down. "Wake up, Kenny," I say, shoving him weakly. "What's going on?" I ask as I climb out of bed, Kenny having finally rolled off of me. There's loud voices coming from the hallway outside.

"I don't know," Stan says. His words are punctuated by a loud crash of thunder that seems to shake the whole ship. I wobble a little, balancing myself on the table nearby. Stan and I look to each other with wide eyes.

"The storm?" I squeak. No longer tired at all, I rush to the door and open it, stepping into the hallway. People are rushing by quickly and a voice is speaking over the announcement system.

"Please remain calm," the voice says. "We're experiencing a few difficulties in the storm. Please make your way quickly and safely to the designated storm shelter of the ship, as shown on your safety map. Please walk, do not run..."

"Storm shelter?!" Stan says at the same time I say, "Safety map?" We rush back into the room.

"What's going on?" Kenny asks from the bed.

"Get dressed!" I say, going to my suitcase to pull on a pair of shorts and socks and my shoes. "We've got to go to the storm shelter! Where's the safety map?" I yell to Stan, who is also getting dressed. I'm shaking so badly that I have to sit down to pull on my socks.

"Over here!" Stan says, looking at the wall near the bathroom. The safety map is located behind the closet door. I rush over to look at it with Stan. Kenny is getting dressed and Cartman is ruffling through the suitcases, filling his backpack with various items.

"Safety room, safety room," I mumble to myself as my eyes scan the map of the ship. A moment later there's a clap of thunder that's so loud it sounds like the whole sky is splitting apart. The lights flicker briefly in our room before going totally dark.

"Shit!" Stan says, opening the door to the hallway. Luckily the light is still on out there so we can look at the map.

"There it is!" I say, pointing to a room that is in the center of the ship, one level above us. "We'll have to go outside to get there!" I moan, afraid of the storm raging outside.

"Are you sure?" Stan asks, looking at the map as well.

"Yes! We've got to leave now, before it gets worse!" I turn around to face Kenny and Cartman. Kenny is staring at us, his eyes wide, and Cartman is still stuffing things in his backpack.

"Come on, Cartman!" I say, heading out the door. Stan and Kenny follow me into the hallway, Cartman not too far behind.

It's chaos out here with people running up and down the hallways. I think of what happened in _Titanic_ and fear clutches at my throat. What if we're locked down here? We reach the end of the hallway and my throat loosens. We're not trapped. Cartman has caught up to us by now, carrying the backpack, and the four of us run up the stairs to get to the deck. We'll have to go out into the storm for a very brief period to get to the safety room. The people who made this ship obviously thought the safety room would be unnecessary since they made it only accessible from the deck and the first class rooms.

We reach the top of the stairs and stop momentarily before going outside, looking out the window in the door. It's pitch black outside, the only light coming from intermittent bursts of lightning and the moon. Rain is pounding on the window so hard that it sounds like hail and the thunder is strong enough to shake the whole ship.

"We've gone right into the storm!" I say in horror.

"Please remain calm," the voice on the announcement system says again. "Please make your way quickly and safely to the designated storm shelter of the ship..."

"Let's go!" Stan yells, and he opens the door and runs out into the storm before any of us can stop him. I follow immediately, cause I'm not leaving Stan out there alone, and Cartman and Kenny follow quickly after.

Stepping out onto the deck is like stepping into a new dimension. I'm immediately and roughly battered by the pouring rain and I slip and fall on the wet wood of the deck, landing hard on my ass.

"Fuck!" I yell, slipping around on the moving ship. I can barely open my eyes more than a centimeter and I can't see anything until a bolt of lightning shines down, showing me Stan still moving across the deck. He's not too far away from me, and I manage to get up, hanging onto the wall.

"STAN!" I yell, but it's useless. Another crack of thunder shakes the ship and I barely manage to keep my balance. I look behind me and see Cartman and Kenny clinging to the wall as well. "Come on!" I yell back to them, and we slowly make our way across the deck, staying close to the wall. We catch up to Stan, who has stopped to wait for us.

There's an open space between the wall we're clinging to and the door to the safety shelter. We have to get there somehow, but I'm afraid to walk across the open section of the deck. I don't want to let go of the wall. Stan doesn't want to, either, it seems like, and we all just stand there for a while, watching the storm as rain pelts us. The waves in the ocean are huge, so huge that they're causing this monster of a ship to twist and turn and lurch at any given moment.

How could this happen? It was a clear day yesterday, I didn't see a storm cloud in sight! And now, this! Kenny yells something that's hard to hear over the wind and thunder and rain, and then he pushes off the wall, walking unsteadily across the deck. He's about halfway across when there's a loud clap of thunder, followed quickly by a flash of lightning that bolts down straight into Kenny, so close that all the hairs on my body stand on end and start tingling.

"Kenny!" Cartman yells.

"They killed Kenny!" Stan yells, looking at Kenny's slumped form.

"You bastards!" I yell into the night, truly angry that Kenny's vacation is now over. But at least he'll wake up back in South Park eventually. If any of us die we're not coming back.

"Come on, Kyle!" Stan says, grabbing my hand. "We can't stay here!" I allow Cartman to grab a hold of my other hand and the three of us slowly step away from the wall. The ship continues to lurch and sway erratically, and if it weren't for Stan and Cartman's hands holding mine I would have fallen on the first step away from the wall. All the lights in the ship are off now, even the one in the doorway that will lead us to the safe room.

We're almost there - about halfway - when the hugest wave I've ever seen crashes against the side of the ship, causing a torrent of water to flow on the deck around us. I try to hold on to Stan's hand, but he's slipping away from me, and I cry out when I lose connection with him.

"STAN!" I yell, but he's gone, transported to the other side of the deck with the water. Cartman has a death grip on my wrist, still hanging on, and he pulls me with him as he somehow manages to walk through the water.

"We're almost there, Ky - " Cartman is interrupted as another wave crashes violently onto the deck, this one pulling us both under. I manage to find my footing and get my head above water, screaming when I realize I've been separated from Cartman, too. A wave comes from behind me and pushes me into the railing. I cling to it, even though it feels so small and flimsy against me, like it will give at any moment.

The ocean is churning beneath me, and everything is so dark, and the ship won't stop rocking. I'm so terrified that I can't even cry. I'm just in shock. I am alone. Out here, clinging to the railing on the edge of the ship, rain lashing against me, I am alone, I've been swallowed up by the storm. This is a nightmare; this is what nightmares are made of. I'm the only one left; the last person on this ship, the last person on earth, the last person anywhere. That's what it feels like.

Another wave crashes onto the deck, hitting me so hard that I lose my grip on the railing. I flail in the water, unable to find purchase on the slick deck, and the whole ship is tipping down, down, down, and before I know what's happening, before I can even scream I'm tipped over the railing and fall into the ocean, head first.

Under the water, everything is eerily quiet, like the sounds of the storm above are very far away, though I know they aren't. At first, I'm simply in shock at being sent overboard, and then strength that I didn't know I had kicks in and I swim to the surface, gulping down all the air I can before I'm buffeted and sent back under the water by more waves. This goes on for quite some time - a wave pulling me under, and each time I swim back to the surface for air.

God, I don't know how long I can keep doing this. I'm coming back up to the surface every time on sheer will power alone; I've got no strength left. My body feels filled with lead weights. I want to cry, but I just don't have the energy. I'm going to die out here in the middle of the ocean. I'm going to drown. My life doesn't flash before my eyes - instead I think of all the things I still haven't done. I haven't gone to college, haven't experienced the world at all - hell, I haven't even had sex! It's not fair. It's not fair...

I'm all out of strength. My whole body is shaking. The storm has lessened somewhat, but I still can't even see the ship. I can't see anything. That's why, after going down again, I hit my head on something nearby as I'm coming up for air. I didn't even see it. The pain is excruciating, and I know I'm losing consciousness. I can't do a thing to stop it. My body goes limp, my head falling face-down in the salty ocean.

Right before I black out, I feel something grab the back of my shirt, lifting me out of the water.


	12. That You Won't Feel A Thing

**The Steps To Success**

**Step Two: The Execution**

**Chapter Twelve: That You Won't Feel A Thing **

I come awake slowly, my brain registering one thing at a time, almost as if it can't comprehend more than that at the moment. I know I'm lying on my back, and my bed is swaying just slightly. I must be on the ship, then, still on the cruise. I don't want to open my eyes. I had the worst dream last night, that there was a storm and I was thrown overboard in the chaos.

It's weird, though. I can feel bright sunlight shining on me, making my body warm and turning the insides of my eyelids red. Did I fall asleep outside? I must have fallen asleep outside somehow because I can hear waves crashing against each other. Not big waves, just normal waves, which I wouldn't be able to hear from inside our room on the ship. And it smells weird, too. Salty.

I'm almost awake, almost there, but it's like I'm trying to protect myself from some terrible discovery. There's a new sensation now, a pain throbbing in the back of my head.

"Mmm," I moan, slowly moving my arms up to rub at my eyes. I blink myself awake, shielding my eyes from the sunlight shining down on me. I sit up slowly, looking around at my surroundings uncomprehendingly. "What the fuck...?" I mutter.

I'm on a boat - a lifeboat of some sort - alone in the middle of the ocean. I want to believe I'm still dreaming, but the pain in my head is throbbing harder now and I finally remember the events of last night as I become fully lucid.

The storm. Kenny being struck by lightning, Stan and Cartman disappearing.

Falling off the ship, swimming, hitting my head on something.

Oh, God.

And now I'm on a lifeboat. How the fuck am I alive right now? Before I can truly have an emotional meltdown I notice a sound coming from the other end of the boat. It sounds like a person. There's a tarp of some sort covering the other end of the boat that I didn't notice before. Someone must be under there. Well of course there is! I didn't pull myself out of the ocean, after all.

"Hello?" I ask timidly. I'm glad that I'm not alone out here. I don't know why I'm not screaming yet. I must be in shock. The person under the tarp grunts. I hope I'm not stuck with a weirdo who might try to eat me or something.

"Are you awake in there?" I try again. The person grunts again and moves around. His hand appears first, followed by his face, and slowly, the rest of his body as he pulls himself out from underneath the tarp.

It's Cartman. "Morning, Jew," he says.

And that's when I start screaming.

- KB -

Cartman just watches me as I scream, an accepting expression on his face, like he knew this was going to happen. I just scream and scream until my voice becomes scratchy and my throat aches. And then I still continue to scream because I don't know what else I can do.

I'm alive, which is definitely a good thing, but I am also stranded on a lifeboat with Eric Fucking Cartman, who somehow saved my life. Eric Cartman saved my life! That in itself is almost as unbelievable as this whole fucking situation that I've found myself in.

Finally, finally I can't scream anymore, and I settle for just sitting there, catching my breath, staring at Cartman.

"You done?" he asks, picking at his fingernails nonchalantly.

"How are you so calm?" I ask him in between breaths. He's just sitting there against the tarp, relaxed as can be, like we're not both stranded in the middle of the ocean.

"I mean," I continue, having trouble articulating my thoughts, "We're stuck out here! The cruise ship is no where to be seen, Kenny _died_, and who knows what even happened to Stan!" I break off there, afraid I'll start crying if I don't stop. "I'm so confused," I moan. "What happened? How did you even get a lifeboat? Did the whole cruise ship sink? Do you know -"

"Whoa!" Cartman interrupts me, holding his hands up. "One question at a time, dude."

"Just tell me what happened," I plead.

"I'll tell you what I know," Cartman says, and I nod. "Well," he begins, "After that wave pulled us apart I couldn't get my footing again until I was at the other end of the deck - the side with the lifeboats."

"I didn't even know there were lifeboats," I say, but then clap my hand over my mouth. Cartman hates when I interrupt.

"Neither did I," he says, narrowing his eyes just slightly in warning. "But there they were, against the side of the ship. They weren't hidden, exactly. You wouldn't see them if you weren't looking for them, though." He stops and I nod in encouragement.

"It wasn't my best idea ever, I'll admit, getting into the lifeboat. But I didn't know what else to do. Everyone had disappeared and I knew I would never make it to the storm shelter. I had to do something."

I sit in silence as I remember feeling like everyone had disappeared as well.

"I still have no idea how I managed to get the boat into the water," Cartman chuckles quietly. "But I did. It was a lot better on the boat; there were no huge waves crashing in and I could sit and hang onto the seats." He gestures to where I'm sitting. "Water got in, of course, but I dumped it back out with that bucket." He points to a bucket near his feet.

"Anyway, I was getting further away from the cruise ship, which was worrying, but I couldn't do anything about it. And then..." He stops, giving me a strange look.

"And then, I saw you. In the ocean." I swallow loudly, remember almost drowning.

"You were unconscious when I lifted you out of the water, but you were breathing, so I just kept your head up and made sure you didn't swallow any water or anything. The storm eventually stopped, and I've been looking under here ever since." He points back behind him, to the place under the tarp.

"So you don't know what happened to the ship?" I ask, feeling hopeless.

"Nope."

"Ugh," I groan. "No one even knows we're gone! Kenny is dead and who knows when he'll come back, and we don't even know if Stan is all right!" My voice breaks on the last word and my lip starts trembling. But I'll be damned if I cry now. Crying won't help anything. "We're stuck out here."

"Well at least we're alive!" he says. "You still haven't even thanked me for saving your life, by the way. Not like I was expecting you to." He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away.

"Oh, yeah," I say, feeling ashamed. "Thanks." It's quiet for a moment. "Though, it doesn't matter since we'll die out here anyway."

"Don't be silly, Kyle," Cartman huffs, rolling his eyes at me. "We aren't going to die. There's food and survival supplies stored under this tarp. I've been going through them; it should last us a little while."

"Well, that's nice. At least you'll live."

"What do you mean, Jew?" Cartman asks, eyeing me wearily.

"I _mean_," I begin, and I have to stop as my throat closes up. "I mean," I try again, "That it doesn't matter if there's food, since I don't have my insulin. I'm a fucking diabetic, remember?"

"Oh, that," Cartman says, like it's nothing. "No problem. I've got it here."

"What?" I say in disbelief as I watch him dig around in the backpack that he brought with him from our room the night before. He finally finds what he's looking for, and, to my utter disbelief, pulls out the case that holds all my insulin shots. He hands it over to me and I set it on my lap.

"Why do you have this?" I ask, because I don't know what else to say.

Cartman shrugs. "Thought I would bring it along, just in case. Didn't know if the room was going to get trashed."

We both just sit there for a while, not saying anything. I don't know what to say. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Cartman was thinking about me at all last night - that he would even care.

"Well, thanks," I say eventually, feeling awkward. Cartman must feel awkward, too, because he just shrugs.

"You gonna take some now?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," I mutter, opening the case and filling a syringe. I'm now especially glad that I brought my full supply from home. Hopefully we'll be found before I run out. Hopefully Stan is all right and he can tell someone that we're missing. Maybe they'll send out helicopters to find us.

I know Cartman is watching me as I inject myself, but I don't comment. I put my stuff away, handing the case back to Cartman so he can put it in his backpack again, since I've got no where to put it myself.

"Seen any helicopters or anything?" I ask.

"Nah. I just figure we'll drift and eventually end up on land somewhere. It's bound to happen eventually."

"Right," I scoff, wanting to remind him that we're in the middle of the fucking Atlantic ocean, but I don't want to start an argument, either. I look out over the body of water. It's windy, and the constant smell of salt is starting to get to me. The current is slow, barely pushing us along. At this rate, it'll be months before we reach any sort of land.

"What's down there, anyway?" I question, gesturing to the tarp.

"Come here," he says. "I'll show you." He gets down and goes under the tarp again, and I get down as well, following him cautiously. Once we're both under he shows me three cases. The first one holds food - saltine crackers, canned fruit, and dehydrated food packets. The second case, which is the largest, holds one thing only: water. Cans and cans of water.

"Thank God," I say. At least we won't die from dehydration.

The third case holds basic supplies - a flashlight, matches, a small ax, a thermos, a set of eating utensils, a pot, pan, plate, and bowl, one sleeping bag (only one! I'll worry about that later), and a manual titled "Survival at Sea," among other things. There's also a small notebook and a pencil, which I grab immediately. Besides the three cases there's also several life preservers, rope, multiple oars, and a safety tube. Overall, that's more than I was expecting.

I'm getting hungry, but I don't say anything. I'll have to get used to the sensation anyway. Instead I busy myself with the notebook and pencil, taking inventory of everything we have so I can keep track. Cartman goes back out into the light while I do this, and when I come back out myself I notice his backpack.

"Oh, yeah," I say. "What's in there?"

"Some of my clothes," he says, shrugging. "Your insulin, some more food, and..." he digs around the bottom of the bag "... some sunblock." He takes the mentioned sunblock out of the bag.

"Why do you have sunblock?" I ask, taking it from him.

He shrugs again. "My mom must have put it in there before we left."

"Well, thank you, Liane," I say, opening the top and squirting some on my hand. I can already feel my skin baking in the sun. I rub the cream into my arms and up under my shirt sleeves onto my shoulders. I don't bother putting any on my legs but I put a good amount on my face and the back of my neck. Cartman watches me as I do this. "Want some?" I ask him, and he shakes his head no, putting it back into his bag when I hand it to him.

"I wish I had my cell phone," I groan. "I left it on the night stand."

"Mine was in my pocket," Cartman says. "But it fell out. It's not there anymore."

"Damn," I mutter, though I would have been surprised if he'd actually had it.

We lapse into silence. I lean back against the side of the boat and think about what might have happened to Stan. I hope he's all right. I hope that, wherever he is, he's in a better situation than me. I'm alone with Cartman on a tiny lifeboat, miles and miles away from any land. I know I won't starve, at least not right away, but who knows how long we'll be out here? And anyway, Cartman might just annoy me to death, in the end.

Yeah, I'd like to think that Stan is in a better place than me.

- KB -

I doze for a little while and am awakened by my growling stomach. "Ungh," I groan, sitting up. I look around. Not a single thing in sight. I sigh and turn, seeing that Cartman is eating some snack cakes. "Can I have some crackers, dude?" I ask him, since I know he won't share his food with me. He nods, his mouth full, and I go under the tarp and fish out some saltines, coming back out into the sunlight to eat them across from Cartman. I eat slowly and carefully; I'm hungry, but I also feel a little bit sick. Uneasy. I know we need to ration what he have. I eat about half the package and put them back in the case, reaching for the "Survival at Sea," booklet on my way out from under the tarp.

I read it out loud, just to annoy Cartman.

"I'm trying to enjoy the peace and quiet here, Jew."

"Well you can enjoy the peace and quiet later. This is important stuff to learn." I clear my throat obnoxiously before continuing, "The second most important thing to remember about surviving at sea is..." and I smile when Cartman sighs loudly in exasperation.

It doesn't take me long to read the whole booklet, even out loud, and unfortunately I don't learn much. I'm smart enough to know not to drink the salt water, thanks very much. But they did have one good idea.

"We should make a net," I tell Cartman. "That way, we can catch any fish that swim into it. It will be better than fishing."

"I don't know how to make a net, Jew."

"Neither do I, fat ass. But I'll think of something." With that, I spend the next hour or so underneath the tarp, going through our supplies. So far I've tied the rope to the safety tube, making it so that it sort of overlaps. There are pretty big gaps, but maybe I'll get a really big fish.

"Well, here goes," I say, putting the tube in the water. Cartman comes over to look, and he laughs loudly at my failure.

Of course, I'd forgotten that the stupid tube floats.

- KB -

There's no way to tell time out here, at least not accurately, but what feels like must be hours later, Cartman and I decide to share a dehydrated meal. We cook it with the fresh water in the thermos, which is battery operated (I hope they last a long time!), and we pass it back and forth. Luckily, there's more than one fork in the utensil case, so at least we don't have to share that. Sharing a meal with Cartman in general is weird enough as it is. In fact, I'm surprised that he didn't just leave me in the ocean last night. When I say as much, Cartman just gives me a withering look.

"Look, Jew," he says. "I know we don't get along, and I take great pleasure in annoying you, but I don't actually want you to _die_, no matter what you may think." He takes a bite of the food and passes the thermos back to me.

I don't know how to reply, so I stir the contents of the thermos for a bit, buying time. The meal we chose to cook is rice with chicken flavoring, with small dehydrated vegetables that have swollen in the hot water. It's actually quite good. I take a bite and hand the thermos back to Cartman. "I don't want you to die, either," is what I end up saying.

"That's reassuring," Cartman says, and I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. I roll my eyes anyway, just for good measure. I'm surprised that we haven't had an argument yet. Of course, right after I think that, we have an argument. And, of course, it's about something completely ridiculous.

"We're not washing it in the ocean!"

"Well what're we going to wash it with, then? Do you want to waste our precious fresh water in order to wash out the stupid _thermos?_" Okay, he's got a point there, but washing out the thermos with water from the ocean just seems so... unsanitary.

"What if we get sick?" I whine.

"Well then at least we won't be dehydrated."

"Fine," I say, knowing I've lost this particular battle. "You gotta admit it's gross, though."

Cartman laughs. "You're such a girl sometimes, Kyle," he says, but there's no bite to the insult.

I could argue the fact that just because I'm hygienic doesn't mean I'm like a girl, but I don't really want to argue. It would be bad if Cartman changed his mind and decided he would have more chances of survival without me. He seems calm now, and I want to prolong that as long as possible, cause if we ever got in a physical fight I wouldn't stand a chance. Overall, I'm at a disadvantage here. So I need to stay on Cartman's good side. That's easier said than done, of course, but I'll try.

And hopefully, by the end of this, the two of us will get home unscathed.


	13. Don't Talk About It (Write It Down)

**The Steps To Success**

**Step Two: The Execution**

**Chapter Thirteen: Don't Talk About It (Write It Down) **

"So there's a sleeping bag, but no blankets and no pillow?" I say out loud, not necessarily to Cartman, but just in general. Cartman answers, anyway.

"I'm not the one who packed the survival lifeboat, Kyle. So don't complain to me."

"I'm not complaining. I'm merely speaking my thoughts."

"Well tell your thoughts to stop being a pussy. You don't need a blanket and you can live without a pillow."

"I know, dude," I say, fed up with the whole thing. "You can have the sleeping bag, I guess. I'll just lay under the tarp." I throw the sleeping bag at his feet and crouch, crawling underneath the tarp. It's dark now, and even though I'm not that tired, I know I should sleep so that I don't mess up my sleep pattern completely. I can hear Cartman muttering and unrolling the sleeping bag. It sounds like he's saying something along the lines of "Stupid Jew" which confuses me. I let him have the sleeping bag - shouldn't that make him happy?

Whatever. If I tried to understand Cartman's thought process I would waste my entire life. I curl up underneath the tarp and use my arms as a makeshift pillow. It's not the most comfortable, but it's not terrible, either. At least it's warm enough that I don't need any blankets. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the ocean around us, the waves slowly pushing us forward with the current, the boat creaking just slightly.

It's weird to think that last night, not long ago, I almost drowned in the ocean. Maybe a normal person would be more shocked, but I guess I've had one too many near-death experiences for this to really have an effect. I figure Cartman and I will be out here for a little while, maybe a day or two more, and then we'll be picked up by a helicopter eventually, either when Kenny comes back to life or when Stan tells the authorities we're missing. I have absolute faith in this.

I finally fall asleep to the thought that I'm still on vacation - the only difference is that my only company is Cartman and the boat is a lot smaller.

- KB -

Cartman is already awake (and eating his snacks) when I crawl out from under the tarp in the morning. "Seen any helicopters?" I ask, and he shakes his head no. Hmm. This isn't looking good. It's been a full day and night since the storm; if the authorities were looking for us they would have started by now, wouldn't they? And we can't be that far off course from the ship... where are they?

I shrug my shoulders and ask Cartman to pass me my insulin. He does without complaint and watches as I jab myself. It makes me feel self conscious, but if I tell him not to watch that will just make him want to watch even more, so it would be pointless. After that's taken care of, I go back to attempting to make a net to catch fish. I want to keep my mind busy because it will hopefully distract me from other things... such as my hunger pains. I've had some more saltines for breakfast, but I'm still really fucking hungry.

It's especially not good for me, since I should have a healthy balanced diet, but, well, I'll live. This is definitely an extenuating circumstance.

Still, it's hard not to focus on food when Cartman won't stop eating. "You're gonna run out of food, dude," I tell him. I'm fiddling with the rope, trying to tie it in a net-like pattern.

"It's my food - I can eat as much as I want," he replies in a defensive tone. He opens a brownie package and I swear I can smell the chocolate from all the way across the boat. My mouth starts watering. Cartman notices my stare. He smirks at me and takes a large bite of the brownie, moaning in pleasure.

"That's just mean, dude," I groan, holding my empty stomach.

Cartman cackles with glee. "And no, you can't have any, cause I know you were going to ask," he says.

"I wasn't going to ask," I mutter dejectedly, even though I was.

After a while longer of fiddling with the rope, I throw it under the tarp, giving up for now. It would be easier if I had some sticks or something. It's midday by now and the sun is directly overhead. I already put on some sunscreen but I feel like I need more, so I add on another layer. It's so fucking hot out here, I just want to lay under the tarp and snooze. But I don't because I don't want to mess up my sleep schedule.

Cartman is sitting at the front of the boat with his shirt off; he's wrapped it around his head in some sort of toga. He's fanning himself with the tiny notebook and won't stop complaining about the heat. I'm not doing any better; I'm sweating so much that my shirt is fucking soaked. I want to take it off but if I do that my back will burn, and I can't reach back there to put on sunblock.

"Why is it so fucking hot, Kyle?" Cartman whines again.

"Stop asking me, Cartman." I glare at him. "At least you can take your shirt off."

Cartman raises his eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"I mean you won't burn up in the sun like a hot tamale if you don't cover yourself in sunblock every thirty minutes."

"What does that have to do with wearing a shirt?"

"Because, fat ass, I can't take my shirt off, since my back will burn off in the sun, cause I can't put sunblock on it. Hence why I say at least you can take your shirt off." Cartman and I are both so worn out by this heat that this discussion doesn't even count as an argument. My eyes are closed and I'm breathing through my mouth, pretty much panting like a dog even though I'm not doing anything.

"Don't be so dramatic, Jew," Cartman says. "I can put sunscreen on your back if you want."

This makes me open my eyes and turn to look at Cartman. His eyes are closed and he's still fanning himself. "Don't joke about that, dude," I whine.

"I'm not joking. I'll do it. Just cause I can't stand your complaining." He thinks for a minute while I lay there in shock. "Though, if you tell anyone that I put sunblock on your pasty ginger skin, I'll have to hurt you."

"You don't have to be a ginger to get sunburn," I say. Cartman sits up and grabs the sunblock. He comes over to where I'm laying on my stomach and squirts the sunblock on his hand. "You're really going to do this?" I ask, looking up at him.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "We're in the middle of nowhere, no one is watching us, and I'm bored. Now take your shirt off, before I change my mind."

"Okay then," I say. I sit up and throw my shirt off. I immediately feel a lot cooler, and I'm so hot that I don't even care at how weird this situation is. I lay back down on my stomach and Cartman squirts some sunscreen on my back. It's warm but still feels good. Cartman starts rubbing it into my skin in slow circles and I have to hold in a moan. I pillow my head on my arms and sigh, closing my eyes.

"You definitely owe me for this, Jew," Cartman says. He's rubbing the middle of my back and it feels so good that I just nod and agree.

"Whatever you want, dude," I sigh, completely delirious from the heat and the rubbing. Cartman snorts but says nothing.

He squirts more lotion on me and starts working it into my lower back. His hands are warm and really soft - softer than any hands I've ever felt. But maybe that's just because of the lotion. He starts rubbing right at the junction where my lower back meets the top of my ass and I moan aloud. It feels so fucking good my toes are curling. He rubs it in firmly, but not roughly. I'm tempted to tell him that he should give massages for a living, but I don't want him to get cocky. Also, that might be a little weird.

He starts working on my shoulders and he does this thing where he goes all the way down my back and all the way up to my shoulders. Then he concentrates solely on my shoulders, even goes as far as to cover my upper arms. The whole experience feels really good, but not in a sexual way, which I'm glad about.

Or, at least, it's not sexual until Cartman starts putting sunblock on the back of my neck, lifting my curls with one hand and rubbing with the other.

"Fuck," I moan, my eyes closed, and Cartman chuckles.

"That feel good, Kyle?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, breathing heavily, and I gasp loudly when Cartman reaches around me to rub at the front of my neck, right along my collar. He's holding my head back with one hand, his fingers curled in my hair, and the position sends all the blood in my body straight to my cock. I've never become so hard so fast in my life, and I know I should tell Cartman to stop before I get myself in an even worse situation, but I just can't bring myself to utter the word.

I allow Cartman to put the sunblock on my collarbone and I drop my head down when he lets go of my hair. He goes back to rubbing my shoulders and I register the fact that he could stop now; all the sunblock has been rubbed in. Yet he's not stopping, which is good, because I don't want him to.

God, this is so fucked up. I'm sexually attracted to Eric Cartman. I can't even pretend to deny it, not when the only reason for my boner is the feeling of Cartman's hands on me. And I know I should be disgusted, because this is _Cartman_, but I'm just not. I'm stuck on a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean, alone with Cartman, and I'm not disgusted at all. This is abundantly clear.

"Well, I think that should do it," Cartman says. He takes his hands off me and I suppress the words I want to say, which are basically, "No, don't stop!"

Cartman gets up and moves back to his perch at the front of the boat. He has to re-do his toga-thing and then he starts fanning himself with the notebook again, closing his eyes. I just stay on my stomach, both because it's comfortable and because I have to hide my stiffy. Cartman seems completely unaffected by what just happened, of course. Even if I wanted to explore my feelings I'm sure Cartman would hurt me if I tried. And he would laugh in my face and say he knew I was a faggot all along.

This thought effectively takes care of my erection and I sigh in relief. If Cartman ever found out that he gave me an erection I would never live it down.

He can never know.

- KB -

Later, I manage to get the notebook away from Cartman and once again take stock of our inventory. I've eaten a lot of the crackers, and we've depleted quite a bit of our fresh water, which is worrying, but we still have a lot more, so there's no need to panic yet.

We eat another dehydrated meal, which occupies my time for a little while, but then once the thermos is clean and put away I'm bored once again. I swear, if I don't die of injury or sickness or dehydration or something like that, I _will_ die of boredom. We haven't even been out here two full days yet, and already it feels like it's been forever.

The sun is finally starting to go down and it's cool enough for me to put my shirt back on. I'm aware of the fact that it smells pretty fucking bad, but I know I can't do anything about it. Plus, I'm sure Cartman's shirt smells even worse.

I'm working on my rope net once again and Cartman is watching me, his head in his hand. He's just as bored as I am, and he won't stop fucking complaining. And the worst part of all is that I can think of a lot of different things that Cartman and I can do that aren't boring at all. Things that I've never done (or wanted to do) with another person before. And I know that I should say something, do something... but I just can't. I'm fucking afraid of rejection, and I just can't fucking do it. Plus, we're sort of actually getting along now, and I don't want to mess it up and make things extremely awkward.

It's almost night time by the time I give up on my net once again. At least I'm making a little bit of progress. I sigh heavily. "We haven't seen a helicopter all day," I say worriedly. "What is Stan doing? Why hasn't he told anyone we're missing?"

"I don't know, Kyle," Cartman says.

I don't reply, I just look out across the never ending horizon. I'm really starting to get worried. Okay, it's only been two days, but still. I wonder where the cruise ship is now, and I remember a few nights ago when Stan asked me if I was excited about going to the Caribbean. I said that I was and that we'd go snorkeling. I look around at the openness of the ocean and sigh again. That's not going to happen now. Who knows if I'll ever even get to the Caribbean islands? Who knows if I'll ever even get off this boat? God, now I'm just making myself depressed.

I'm mad at myself, too. Over this whole vacation I've been worrying about my sexuality. Worried about what my family will think, worried about what Stan will say. And now there's a chance that I'll never see any of them again. But I shouldn't get ahead of myself. We could still be found tomorrow, or the next day, or even the next. We have enough food and water for that long, at least, probably more.

It'll be fine.

- KB -

The moon is full tonight, shining brightly around us. The reflections of light flicker off the waves. I'm leaning against the side of the boat, staring down at the water. Cartman is asleep in the sleeping bag at the other end. I know I should go to sleep but I'm just not tired. I sigh heavily.

"Go to sleep, Jew," Cartman says, startling me.

"Shit, dude," I say. "I thought you were asleep."

"Can't sleep," he says. "The moon is too bright."

"Well, go under the tarp, then."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Where are you going to sleep?"

I shrug. "Not tired." I stare down into the water, looking at my morose reflection.

"All right," Cartman says. He unzips the sleeping bag and steps out, bringing it with him to the tarp where he slides under, bringing his bedding with him.

"Night," he says, and I sigh again. Everything is quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the waves, and I briefly entertain the thought of stealing one of Cartman's snacks from his bag, which he left out here. But I decide against it. Cartman will know I took something and in the end it's not worth it. After a little while my eyelids start to droop and I doze where I'm sitting, my head pillowed on my hands which are on the ledge of the boat.

A while later I startle awake and look around. Still on the boat. Surprisingly, I'm actually a bit cold. Stupid erratic weather. I blame global climate change. I briefly debate staying out here and trying to fall back to sleep or going under the tarp and laying down next to Cartman. _Why_ did I tell him he could sleep under there? God, I'm an idiot. I shiver. Well, if he wakes up before me and gets mad at me for sleeping next to him, what's the worst he can do? I'll just tell him I got cold, which is actually the truth.

Decision made, I crawl under the tarp and lay down next to Cartman. We're not touching, but it's a lot warmer under here. I see that he never zipped the sleeping bag closed and he's instead using it like a big blanket. I grab a portion of it and pull it over me, sighing into the warmth.

"Mmm," Cartman grunts. Shit. I've woken him up. "Kyle?" He murmurs sleepily.

"It's cold out there, dude," I say, staying still.

"Whatever," he sighs, and a few moments later he's asleep again. I breathe a sigh of relief, turning over on my side and falling asleep as well.

In the morning, I'm alone under the tarp when I wake up, sweating from laying under the sleeping bag. I groan and climb out, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight. Cartman is sitting at his perch at the other end of the boat.

"Can I have my insulin?" I ask him. He tosses me the case and watches me jab myself. I hand it back and eat saltine crackers for breakfast. "Seen any helicopters?" I ask. I can feel a routine forming.

"No," he says, frowning.

And so begins day three of being stranded in the ocean with Cartman.


	14. But Don't Ask For Help

**The Steps To Success**

**Step Two: The Execution**

**Chapter Fourteen: But Don't Ask For Help **

The third day of being stranded at sea with Cartman passes much the same as the two days previous. Cartman eats his snacks and complains, and I eat saltines and dehydrated meals and complain about Cartman's complaining. I spend some time working on the rope net; it actually starts to look pretty good. It's really fucking hot again and Cartman offers to rub suntan lotion on me, which I happily let him do. He makes me melt like fucking butter in his hands, and it is definitely the best part of the day, even though I'm left with another stiffy that I can't do anything about. But later, during the night, I'm laying under the tarp, trying to fall asleep, and Cartman joins me with the sleeping bag. It's unzipped and he puts it over both of us, like a blanket. I pretend that I'm asleep the whole time, not wanting to question Cartman's sudden willingness to be so close to me.

On the fourth day, Cartman runs out of snacks. I've been dreading the day this would happen, but it isn't that bad. Mostly it just gives Cartman more things to complain about. Still, now that his snacks are gone, we're running out of our food fast. At an alarming rate, in fact.

On the fifth day of being stranded in the middle of the fucking ocean, I finally figure out how we'll be able to catch some fish. I finish the rope net and deflate the safety tube so that it's just a limp piece of leather. I then tie the rope net onto the tube and connect it to an oar, which I then dip into the water. This way, as the current moves the boat, my hand-made net also moves in the water, and hopefully some fish will swim into it. I don't catch anything that day, but I'm still pretty fucking proud of myself for thinking of the idea.

The weather during the sixth day is so hot and humid that I think I'm going to die of heat stroke, and I'm not even doing anything. I pretty much beg Cartman to put some sunscreen on my back, cause I can _feel_ it burning up, but he's catatonic, lying with his mouth open and his eyes closed. I can't really blame him. We drink a lot of our fresh water that day, and I mean _a lot_. That's why, when, on the seventh day, it starts raining cats and dogs, I'm actually happy about it. Cartman and I collect all the rain water we can in buckets. And to top it off, that's the day I catch my first fish in my hand-made net. Neither Cartman nor I want to eat raw fish (it's definitely _not_ Kosher) but we have no way of starting a fire on the boat, even though we have matches and a frying pan. We end up throwing the (now) dead fish back into the ocean. We're hungry, but not that hungry. Yet.

Nothing of significance happens on the eighth day. (I know it's the eighth day because I've been keeping track in the inventory notebook.) Unless, of course, Cartman's daily rub down of sunblock counts as something of significance. Or the fact that every night now Cartman comes underneath the tarp to sleep next to me when he thinks I'm sleeping. Those two things would be significant, except that now they happen on a regular basis, like part of a routine. Plus, a lot of things that seemed like a big deal really aren't anymore. It's weird how being on the edge of life and death does that.

The ninth day passes the same, and I actually thank God that Cartman is stranded here with me, because I would have gone crazy by now if he wasn't. Literally. I would be insane from the boredom. I wouldn't say this under normal circumstances, but the fact that Cartman and I agree on pretty much nothing is actually to our advantage in this situation. During the day we spend hours just debating various topics. I sit on the side of the boat, holding my little net in the water, and Cartman sits at his perch at the front, and we talk. Well, argue is more like it, just without the yelling. I haven't caught another fish since that first one, but If I catch another one that's swimming too close to the surface, I will eat it this time. I don't care if it's raw. We're running out of supplies.

It's now the tenth day that Cartman and I have been stranded on this tiny lifeboat. And, while some things, like staying Kosher, have stopped mattering in the face of our circumstance, other things I just can't help but complain about.

"My shirt is so fucking dirty, dude," I moan, holding it up in front of myself. There's sweat stains and dirt and other shit just caked into it, and it's at the point now that I just don't want to put it back on. At all. My shorts and other clothes (boxers, _ahem_) aren't the cleanest, either, but at least they're not white, so they don't look as bad.

Cartman, the bastard, has a change of clothes in his backpack so he's just laughs at my complaints, saying, "Now you actually _are_ a filthy Jew."

"Well you don't smell like a basket of roses, either," I tell him, even though I'm no better. The truth is that we both smell terrible - like sweat and body odor and just _human_. Too much human all over the place. I need shampoo, and soap, and _fucking water that's not fucking salty_ that I can bathe in to clean all this dirt off. Seriously, the grime is just caked on now. The storm that happened a few days ago washed some of it away, but it just came back anyway.

"We're gonna die," I groan, like I've been groaning for the past few days, past caring that I sound like an over-dramatic bitch. "We're gonna die out here and the sea birds are gonna pick us clean."

"We're not gonna die, Kyle," Cartman says, rolling his eyes.

"What if we don't get to land soon? What if no one ever finds us? We can't stay out here forever!"

"We'll get to land and we'll get help, Jew, it's not rocket science." By now the two of us have rehashed this argument so many times that we pretty much know what the other person is going to say before they say it. It's both annoying and reassuring that Cartman is so confident in our survival. It's annoying because he has no proof that he's right, and he could very well be wrong, but it's also reassuring because, well, who doesn't need a little optimism in their life? I never knew that Cartman had such a positive attitude. (Hah, right.)

"Ten days," I moan. "We've been out here for ten days and haven't seen anyone at all. You'd think that we'd see at least a boat of some sort, delivering goods or something."

"Yeah," Cartman agrees. "Now shut the fuck up, Jew, your voice is annoying me."

"Fuck you," I tell him, but then I do actually shut up because my voice is starting to annoy me, too. We're both quiet for most of the afternoon, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I'm thinking about the future, thinking about college at Harvard next year, and silently telling myself that if I get out of this alive I won't give my mom such a hard time about me becoming a lawyer. Maybe I'll even humor her and take a few classes. The thought doesn't seem so bad now.

I have no idea what Cartman is thinking about, but it must be something important. He's staring contemplatively out at the water, his eyebrows pulled together in thought. He doesn't even notice me staring at him, which is nice, cause I'd rather look at him than at the stupid view of never-ending ocean around us.

I know we haven't been out here too long, but I'm noticing changes to Cartman's physique in interesting ways. His hair is longer, for one, and he also seems just the slightest bit... I wouldn't use the word skinnier, exactly; he's just more lean. Still big, though. He has this air of mystery around him that just won't go away, and I grudgingly admit that it's a good look on him.

Oftentimes I find myself looking at his hands, which is slightly weird. But I just can't help myself - he's like the master of massages and his hands just interest me. They're a bit of a conundrum. His hands are big, like the rest of him, but where most of Cartman's body is thick, his hands are actually quite delicate. The skin of his palms is extremely soft (from the lack of manual labor, I suppose). His fingers are long, but not too slender to look creepy, and his nails are cut short.

I look down at my own hands, which are small and get dry and cracked during the cold months, often turning an ugly pink color in the winter. By comparison, Cartman's hands are almost feminine. I sigh dejectedly, looking away from my hands and back at Cartman. It just goes to show how bored I am that I am cataloging Cartman's features. Mostly, I think I just need to keep myself busy so that I don't ask Cartman for another one of his massages.

Yes, I know that I'm pathetic.

- KB -

"Cartman," I say quietly. It's our eleventh day of being stranded together, and to say I'm bored is an understatement.

"What?" he grunts.

"Try not to finish it," I tell him, smiling slightly, with just the corners of my mouth. He raises an eyebrow at me and I start singing quietly: "I'm sailing away... Set an open course for the virgin seas..."

He always had to finish singing this song when we were kids. I haven't made him sing it for a long time. Cartman swears and looks constipated for a few moments before he says, "Fuck!" and starts singing the song as quickly as possible.

I'm smiling for real now because it's funny that Cartman still has to finish the song. I used to think it was annoying when we were kids but now I just think it's endearing.

"Fuck you, Kyle," Cartman says when he's done singing, but he's smiling, too.

- KB -

"Cartman! I got one! I caught a fish!"

It's the evening of our twelfth day at sea and I finally catch another fish with my makeshift net. Cartman comes tumbling out from under the tarp, where he was most likely trying to sleep, and rushes over to help me get the fish in the boat. It's not dead yet, just caught in the net, and I watch as Cartman lifts it out of the water, net and all, and wrestles it to the bottom of the boat, wrapping his arms around it and laying on top of it until it goes still.

"Nice one, Kyle," he tells me once the fish is dead. It's a rather large fish.

"Thanks," I say as he untangles the net and hands it back to me. He finds a knife from our dwindling supply pile and starts cutting off pieces of the fish. I don't watch, but I do eat the piece he offers me a few moments later. It tastes like fish, which isn't pleasant, but it's greasy and filling and it makes my stomach feel better instead of worse so I also eat another piece that he gives me, hoping that I won't be sick the next morning.

But even if I am, it's not like we have any choice. Cartman and I have both been rationing the food because our supplies are getting dangerously low. We're already completely out of the saltine crackers and we've already consumed three-fourths of our fresh water. Neither of us have any idea if or when we'll be found or reach land, so we've decided to be conservative.

So today both of us have only eaten one dehydrated meal each with a can of water, so it's safe to say we're both a bit hungry. We eat in comfortable silence, picking out the bones and throwing them back in the water. Thinking about the future makes my head hurt, especially thinking about our supplies. Everything is running out, including my insulin. For me, it doesn't matter if we always have food and water, because if I run out of insulin, I'm done for anyway.

Something's got to happen soon.

- KB -

"So..." Cartman asks the next day after I take my insulin. "What will happen to you if you run out of insulin?"

He doesn't look at me as he asks the question, but he says it with an air of curiosity.

"Well," I begin, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "If I don't get my insulin my blood sugar will sky rocket, which can lead to many things, including dehydration, fever, coma, and, eventually, death, among other things." I look down at my nails as I say it, trying not to let the tremor show in my voice, trying to hide how scared I am of that actually happening.

Cartman is quiet for a while. "Has it ever happened to you before?" he asks, and I shake my head no.

We're both quiet for a long time after that, just thinking, and then Cartman says, "I won't let you die." And when I look at him his eyes are serious and he's not smiling and I just nod my head because I don't know what to say.

It's weird because it seems like Cartman actually cares. It's weird because I believe him.

- KB -

I decide to change the amount of insulin I take each day, choosing to decrease the amount. I do this for a number of reasons, most importantly because if I make the doses smaller then my supply will last longer. Also, I've lost a bit of weight since we've been out here for almost two weeks. I'm used to my dosage changing - I've been going to the doctor every six months for blood tests to make sure I'm taking the correct dose for my weight and food intake - so, since I now weigh less and am eating less I figure decreasing my dose won't hurt.

Cartman has also lost a bit of weight. Nothing too drastic - we haven't been out here _that_ long, after all - but a significant amount, nonetheless. He's actually lost a few inches around his waist. He looks good.

I, on the other hand, was scrawny and skinny even _before_ this whole thing happened, so I probably just look plain sickly, now. My hips are bonier than ever and I can wrap my entire hand around my wrist so that my fingers overlap. And my fingers aren't even that long. It's definitely not a good thing.

- KB -

The next day, two weeks after the storm that caused this whole mess, I hear a strange sound. I'm under the tarp with Cartman, half asleep, when I hear whooshing sounds. They keep fading in and out, like they're getting closer and then moving away. I groan and roll over, throwing the sleeping bag off of my overheated body. The sun is shining brightly and I rub the sleep out of my eyes as the whooshing sounds come closer again. I roll out from under the tarp and look at the sky, my heart rate skyrocketing.

It can't be - it is really what I think it is? - my eye catches on a small thing in the distance and I yell, calling for Cartman.

"Cartman! Get up, Cartman, it's a helicopter! A helicopter!" I jump up and down, waving my arms frantically. "HEY!" I yell, and Cartman comes out to join me, yelling as well. "We're over here! OVER HERE!" We're both waving our arms like crazy people and yelling ourselves hoarse, and the helicopter comes closer before flying away again, making circles.

But they don't see us. "NO!" I yell as the helicopter starts flying away. "COME BACK! COME BACK!" My vision becomes blurry as my eyes fill with tears. "Come back," I moan, sitting down and putting my face in my hands. The tears spill over and I don't even try to stop them. It feels like my heart is breaking, like every last vestige of hope I had for rescue is being sucked out of me. Everything aches, everywhere, it's like everything all at once, and I can't stop crying.

I sound like a broken animal, my sobs turning into whining keens and harsh breaths, moans and sniffling. Cartman wraps his arms around me and I allow him to pull me into his chest. He's crying as well; I can feel his tears falling on the back of my neck. But his crying is silent, which somehow makes it even worse. We both sit and cry together for a long time, just letting it all out, and neither of us say anything. There are no words of comfort; nothing. There's nothing we can say.

We both know that any chance of being found now is pretty much non-existent. A helicopter was here, was the only form of life we've seen for _two weeks_, and now it's gone. What are we going to do now?

What the fuck are we going to do now?


	15. I Can't Be Honest With Even Myself

**The Steps To Success**

**Step Two: The Execution**

**Chapter Fifteen: I Can't Be Honest With Even Myself **

"That helicopter had to come from somewhere, right? It could be close by."

Cartman gives me a disbelieving look, but doesn't say anything to contradict my bleak hope, which is actually pretty nice of him.

Ever since the helicopter showed up and left us here, it's like Cartman and I have switched roles. All of a sudden I'm the optimistic one, which: _weird_. Cartman has been quiet and pensive all day, looking out at the water, sometimes sighing loudly and obviously. It's worrying. I just want to make him feel better. I don't know why I want to make him feel better, I just do. I don't question it anymore.

It's getting dark out. "I'm going to sleep," I say into the silence, pulling my net out of the water. No luck with fishes today. Damn.

I crawl underneath the tarp, taking off my shirt along the way. It's more comfortable to sleep without it. I lay underneath the sleeping bag/blanket for a while, telling myself I am _not_ waiting for Cartman to join me. Well, maybe I am, but I'm not tired anyway. I just go to bed when it's dark out to keep up some small semblance of normality.

Cartman does join me eventually, getting close underneath the sleeping bag but not close enough to touch. I'm faced away from him, but I know he's turned towards me, looking at my back, and fuck it all, I'm gonna do what I want. I scoot back until his chest is against my back and snuggle in. I don't care if he calls me gay for being the little spoon, I want this. I _need_ this contact right now.

Cartman surprises me by wrapping an arm around my middle and pulling me closer. He's still wearing a shirt, so we're not skin-to-skin, but he's warm and it's nice and I relax into it. I smile to myself. Cartman likes to cuddle. Somehow it actually makes sense.

I wonder if he still thinks I'm asleep as I start to drift off. And then it doesn't matter, because I am.

- KB -

"It's true!"

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not making this up, Kyle. There's fresh water inside a fish's eye. You can totally drink it."

"You just want me to eat a fish eyeball."

"Yes, because there's aqueous fluids inside."

"Where do you learn this stuff?"

"The internet."

"Huh. Well, to eat a fish eye we need to actually catch a fish first."

"You should get on that, then, Kyle."

- KB -

"Hey, do those look like rain clouds?"

"Possibly. Looks like a storm might be coming."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I don't know. But anything is better than just sitting here."

"Yeah."

- KB -

"Dude, please? You know I wouldn't ask unless I really needed it."

"A huh, right. You're just trying to take advantage of my gesture of good will."

"Pfft. You offered the first time. Plus, you don't have any good will."

"That hurts me, Kyle. Hurts me real deep."

"Shut up and put the sunscreen on already."

- KB -

"Dude, Cartman, wake up! It's raining!"

"Praise Jesus. Where's the bucket?"

"I have the bucket. Get some empty canisters or something."

"Quit bossing me around, Jew."

"Just shut up and collect the water, Cartman."

- KB -

"Why are you still going on about this? Just because we caught another fish does not mean I am going to eat its eyeball."

"Come on, Kyle."

"No! If you're so confident, why don't you do it?"

"Fine, I will."

"Yeah, right - wait, what are you doing? Eew! No, Cartman, I was kidding! Gross! That's so nasty, Cartman. I can't believe you just ate a fish eyeball."

"Ahahahaha! Your_ face_, Kyle! Ahaha! So totally worth it."

- KB -

"It hurts, Cartman."

"I know."

"I'm so hungry."

"Yeah. Me, too."

- KB -

"Dude, if we get back home, I will never take fresh water for granted ever again."

"Yeah. That and snacky cakes."

"Yeah. And snacky cakes."

- KB -

"We could play truth or dare?"

"Come on, Jew, truth or dare? That's the best you can come up with? I'm bored out of my mind and I still don't want to play truth or dare."

"It was just a suggestion. Jesus."

- KB -

"Hey Cartman, are there scissors in here somewhere?"

"I don't know, Kyle. Why don't you -"

"Oh! Found some. Will you do me a favor, Cartman?"

"Depends on what it is."

"I want you to cut my hair."

"... Why?"

"Because it's fucking annoying, that's why."

"But I like your hair."

"You do?... Well cut it off anyway. I'm not asking this time."

"Fine, Kyle, Jesus. Get those scissors out of my face."

"Just cut my stupid hair, Cartman."

- KB -

"I don't want to die yet, dude. There's still so much I haven't done."

"Like what? We've actually done quite a bit of stuff that normal people haven't done."

"I don't mean stuff like that, I mean normal stuff, like... living in a dorm at college, finding a real job, coming out to everyone..."

"What was that last one?"

"Uh. Coming out? Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then. I'm, uh. I think I'm gay?"

"Yeah. I know you are."

"I'm not joking, Cartman."

"Neither am I."

"... You're not?"

"Of course not. I knew you were gay before you did, Kyle."

"That's... not weird at all."

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Jew. It wasn't that hard to see."

"Oh. So... do you think the others know?"

"Probably."

"Huh. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"What? I've been telling you for _years_, don't even give me that."

"I thought you were making fun of me!"

"I_ was_ making fun of you."

"You're such an asshole, Cartman."

- KB -

Time becomes meaningless when it stretches on and on. Cartman and I sleep whenever we want now, whenever we're tired. We're both sleeping more than usual, of course, but the scary part is that I still feel tired when I'm awake. I feel exhausted all the time. I don't even have the energy to hold my net in the water to catch fish some days, which isn't good because fishes are our main source of food, now.

I often find myself thinking... wanting... and if we're going to die, well then it doesn't matter anyway, right? Cartman already knows I'm gay (and wasn't _that_ an interesting conversation) and he hasn't said anything else about it, so he must be okay with it, right? It's getting harder and harder not to just _do something. _Even if Cartman isn't gay - even if he doesn't like me - I'm sure he's just as horny as I am. And really, what's the worst that could happen? That he'll reject me? Honestly, it doesn't seem like that much of a big deal anymore.

Cartman is attractive, in a kind of disgusting way, with his greasy hair and shoddy attitude. I want to lick into that smirking mouth of his; I want him to touch me all over with those hands. I want to know what it feels like to suck cock before I die. I bet Cartman has a big, fat cock. This is what I think about.

But no matter how hard I try to get the words out, they don't come. Words are stupid, anyway. Useless. Actions speak louder than words, right? So I develop somewhat of a plan. If I can get Cartman to touch me first, make the first move... I will gladly go along with whatever he wants to do. Because even if Cartman's not gay, he still has more experience than me, I'm sure.

It becomes somewhat of a game. I've never tried to seduce anyone before, but I think it's working. I often just sit across from Cartman with my legs spread apart, running my hands over my own chest. I give Cartman my best bedroom eyes, not even caring that I'm not being subtle at all. Cartman watches, his gaze heated. Sometimes he seems angry, whether at me or at the whole damn situation, I don't know.

There's a tension building between us. We're both horny as all fuck and waiting for the other to make the first move. I don't want to, for some reason, though I've come close.

"You're going to be the death of me, Kyle." Cartman mutters one night while he thinks I'm asleep.

I almost lose it right there. I almost tell him my deepest secret - the thing that's really been bothering me ever since we watched the helicopter fly away those few days ago. I can feel the words on the tip of my tongue: I don't want to die a virgin. What would Cartman do if I said that out loud right now? Seven simple words blurted out under the cover of darkness. Would he pretend he didn't hear me? Would we fuck?

In the end, I'll never know. I don't say anything to Cartman that night, and in the morning all thoughts of virginity are pushed to the back of my mind because now there's something new to focus on, at least for a little while. I don't know how it's possible, since neither Cartman nor I saw anything at all last night except the same expanse of water, but it's not a hallucination. We can both see it in the distance.

A coastline.

- EC -

This was not supposed to happen. This is so far from what was supposed to happen when Cartman planned this trip that he can't even fathom it. He had the best intentions. He had been waiting so long. He had it all planned out...

Cartman doesn't remember exactly when getting into Kyle's pants became his life's goal; he sort of thinks it just crept up on him until one day he looked at Kyle during one of their many arguments and realized that he's attracted to the light flush covering Kyle's cheeks, that he likes the way Kyle's green eyes shine, that he very much enjoys the way Kyle moves his hands around as he talks. That was in the early years of high school, when all of them were still going through their awkward growth spurts, so Cartman chalked it up to puberty and hormonal imbalances and didn't worry about it.

But it didn't go away. Cartman couldn't deny that he liked watching Kyle, liked hanging out with him and arguing with him. It was weird because he didn't like Kyle, not really, only he did, which was confusing. And then he started noticing other things about Kyle, like how pale his skin really is, and how green his eyes really are, and he always made fun of Kyle for being scrawny, but he secretly loves how thin the other boy is, loves the shape of his shoulders and his cheekbones. And all of a sudden Cartman found that he wanted to touch Kyle all over, all the time, in intimate places. He might have been worried if he was anyone else, but he's Cartman, and he knows his own mind. He knows he's not gay, he just likes Kyle. That's it. He wants Kyle.

But Kyle hates him. So he has to change that.

He knew that he would have to be careful. He knew he would have to play it right. He knew the only way to win Kyle's heart was to do it so slowly that Kyle didn't even realize what was happening. So he acted normal, like nothing had changed, and quietly planned.

Then, finally, when an opportunity presented itself at the end of their senior year of high school, Cartman grabbed it with both hands and invited his three closest friends to come on vacation with him. He would have preferred a vacation with just him and Kyle, but he knew Kyle would never agree to that. Sometimes he feels that he knows Kyle better than anyone else, including himself.

So he planned the trip for the four of them in the hopes that it would bring Kyle closer. And it was working pretty well, too, in his eyes. He had gotten Kyle to sit in his lap in the taxi cab (which had been the best form of torture - the blue balls had been completely worth the minutes he got to feel Kyle's ass against his thighs) and they did some fun things together in Spain and on the ship.

(He purposely pushed that conversation they had in the laundry room of the hotel out of his mind. He had watched as Kyle was led off of the dance floor by the Spanish girl and he had been angry, had wanted to be the one dancing with Kyle, had wanted to be the one to take Kyle outside; but he hadn't done anything. He had to bide his time and play it safe. And when he found out that the girl had attempted to give Kyle a blowjob, which he obviously didn't want, he was both filled with rage and relief. He was filled with rage because how dare that bitch touch what was his? Or would be his, soon. And then he was also relieved because it meant Kyle was definitely interested in guys and not girls. He had had his suspicions for a while now, but it was nice having them confirmed. One less obstacle.)

It was going to be perfect! It had been going so well! Cartman had it all planned out; they were on their way to the Caribbean Islands - white beaches, blue waters, hammocks, sunsets - the perfect romantic scene. Cartman spends a lot of time imagining it now - getting Kyle alone and finally, finally pressing their lips together in a kiss. He likes to imagine Kyle's reaction. Surely he would kiss Cartman back after all this time. And the romantic settings would definitely help.

But, no. Cartman plans these things out to a science and still something always goes wrong. But seriously, a tropical storm? Stupid God is cock-blocking him again, and it's just plain cruel this time.

To be truthful, though, he's just glad that Kyle is alive. He had had a bad feeling ever since he woke up to the sound of alarms on the cruise ship. He had packed all of Kyle's insulin and told himself that he would not let go of Kyle's hand once they were out in the storm. But then the wave had come in and he'd been separated from both Kyle and Stan and when he came back to the side of the boat and saw Kyle fall overboard he nearly jumped in after him. But he had held himself back and found a lifeboat on the other side of the deck and somehow managed to get it into the water without capsizing the entire thing. (He had told Kyle that he had found the boat by accident, that it was all a big coincidence, but that was a lie; he had looked for it to save him.) He found Kyle barely breathing and hauled him up into the safety of his arms. He almost kissed him right then and there.

So he had saved Kyle's life. He felt pretty good about that - thought that, considering everything, he shouldn't be too hard on himself. And just because the two of them weren't heading for the Caribbean (at least, he didn't _think_ they were - who knew where this boat was headed?) didn't mean that they couldn't have romantic times. Sure, a life or death situation isn't ideal for relaxation and persuasion, but he'll work with what he can.

It's actually pretty terrible, all things considered. Cartman finds himself acting as the voice of optimism because the Jew keeps talking about dying, but there's no way Cartman is letting that happen. He'd have to die, first, and he's planning on living for a long time after this is all over. It still sucks, though. Not the being stuck with Kyle part - that part's actually pretty great - but the being stranded part. He's bored out of his mind and he's sick and tired of being perpetually hungry. He wants to feel full again; to fill his stomach with so much food that he can hardly move. He has daydreams about it, sometimes. When they get back to the states he is going to the buffet in South Park, and he is going to eat himself into a food coma.

But thinking about food isn't going to bring him food, so he switches his attention to Kyle.

Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. It's always Kyle. It's always been Kyle. Kyle, who asks for massages like they're the best part of his day; Kyle, who is more subdued and quiet every day; Kyle, who is slowly looking thinner and thinner as the time passes. Cartman could easily take advantage of their situation. They're both alone out here. No one would hear Kyle's screams and there's no way Kyle is strong enough to fight him off.

But he wants Kyle to want it, too. That's why he took everyone on this stupid vacation in the first place. So while Kyle tries to catch fish, he sits and debates consent issues. He knows that Kyle likes his sunscreen massages more than a straight boy should, but is that because he's incredibly horny or because he likes Cartman? And would it be considered rape if he had sex with Kyle while they're out here? Because maybe Kyle doesn't _really_ want it. Maybe he's only reacting this way because of the circumstances. So would it be circumstantial rape? And would Kyle hate him when they get back home? He doesn't want Kyle to hate him. He doesn't want it to be a one time thing, either.

So he holds himself back during the massages and doesn't touch Kyle inappropriately at night while they're asleep (no matter how much he wants to) and he's sort of miserable, because he _wants_, but he also thinks it will be worth the wait.

But then, of course, their rescue helicopter fucking _doesn't see them _and Kyle cries on his shoulder and everything changes yet again. Kyle adopts an attitude of "Let's do whatever we want, we're going to die anyway," which, yeah, that might be true but it also might not be true. And Cartman understands the whole Live While You're Alive thing, he does, but he doesn't want Kyle to regret anything.

So he broods and is in a generally pissed off mood. Even when Kyle accidentally admits he's gay (finally) it doesn't make him feel much better because he already _knows_ that Kyle is gay, but is he gay for _Cartman_? That's the most important part.

Soon after his little confession, Kyle starts giving Cartman bedroom eyes and overall acts more provocative than usual, which is _pure torture_, since he's plenty provocative without even trying. Cartman doesn't act on it, but he gives Kyle the bedroom eyes right back and watches with intense focus. And he knows that Kyle knows he wants to fuck him, he _knows_ it, and yet they're not doing anything. They're both stuck in this place where they both know they want to fuck, and yet no one's making a move.

They're at a stalemate.


	16. Do You Ever Wish You Were Somebody Else?

**The Steps To Success**

**Step Two: The Execution**

**Chapter Sixteen: Do You Ever Wish You Were Somebody Else? **

Hope is a cruel, cruel emotion. I had hope, I lost hope, and now I have hope again; but it's a tentative hope, a loose hope. I know that I can lose it at any moment. And this time, my crash landing back to reality will be even worse, because that's what hope does to people. It lifts them up high and when it's gone its absence is as noticeable as color; suddenly everything is gray.

Because I know this, I know that I really shouldn't get my hopes up, but I just can't help it. Hope, when a person has it, is one of the best emotions ever. And that coastline I see in the distance gives me hope. If we can just get to land, somehow, I know we'll be all right. There will be other _people_ there.

(There's a part of me that calls myself an idiot, tells myself not to be so stupid, that just because I see a coastline doesn't mean there's actual people there, or civilization. We have no idea where we are in the ocean. It could just be a random island.)

And, yes, I know this, but I'm ignoring my more pessimistic self. I need to have this hope. This hope is all I have.

Well. That, and Cartman.

Cartman, who has become my anchor throughout this whole thing. Cartman, who I no longer hate at all, but instead feel a strange sort of an affection for. I mean, he saved my life. He's the only reason I'm alive right now. How could I possibly dislike him at all, anymore? He hasn't even changed - he's still the same asshole that he's always been, but now instead of getting angry I just feel an overwhelming urge to smile and sometimes agree with him. And what's weird about it is that I don't feel weird about it at all. And if that's not strange enough, not only do I want Cartman to be my first time, I also want him to like me. He doesn't have to love me, but I at least want _some_ affection; some type of promise that what happens out here won't be forgotten.

And that's why I'm waiting for him to make the first move. If he just gives me a simple kiss, anything, I feel like I'll be his forever. I think I might let him do anything to me, anything he wants. It's exhilarating. It makes me nervous and excited.

"Do you see it, Cartman?" I ask, pointing.

"See what, Kyle?" He squints in the direction of my finger. "Is that...?"

"Yes, fat ass! Land!"

"I told you we aren't going to die, Jew!" he crows triumphantly, his smile covering his whole face, making his eyes bright. I have a sudden urge to fling myself at him so I can kiss him senseless. It's so strong that I have to grip the side of the boat to stop myself.

Instead, I turn around and crouch to look underneath the tarp. "We should get our supplies together," I tell him.

"Yeah," he agrees, crouching down next to me so we can sort through what we have together. He sits right next to me so that our arms and legs are pressed together. It's too warm for this time of day but neither of us move apart. We spend the afternoon organizing our supplies so that we'll be able to carry them off the boat easily once we reach the coastline. We can't stop smiling at each other and I have to constantly fight the urge to lean over and kiss him.

The whole world has gone crazy but I don't even care. It's just me and Cartman out here and right now I feel like he's the best thing I've ever seen. I know that he's the same asshole he's always been but it's like none of it matters anymore. I feel full when I look at him. Not my stomach, that's always empty nowadays, but my chest. It feels fit to burst with emotions and feelings. And maybe I really am going crazy because I've never felt this way about _anyone_, ever. Or maybe I've always felt this way and I'm just realizing it now.

But I'm thinking too much. Cartman and I need to plan and prepare for when we reach land. Will there be people there? I certainly hope so. But we also need to prepare for the possibility that it's uninhabited. I say as much to Cartman and he replies,

"Here's the plan: stay alive."

"That's easier said than done, Cartman," I tell him, a tiny bit of annoyance creeping into my voice.

"We've done pretty well so far. And plus, when have our plans ever actually worked? They never do." He sounds bitter for some reason and I lift one eyebrow at him.

"Okay then. So we'll just get to the island and see what happens? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. That's what I'm saying. Thanks for understanding, Kyle."

The thanks is sarcastic, but that's nothing new with Cartman so I just huff and roll my eyes. Familiar silence overcomes us as I get my net and try to catch a fish or two and Cartman broods in his spot on the boat. The silences are comfortable and normally I'm fine with just listening to the sound of the waves and my own thoughts, but right now I'm nervous. I want to talk.

"So how long do you think it will take to get there?" Our little lifeboat is slowly moving in the direction of the coastline, but it doesn't look like we're any closer to it than we were when I woke up this morning.

Cartman thinks about his answer before he replies. "Probably in the morning, maybe tomorrow afternoon."

"Do you think it's inhabited?"

"I think I have a headache and we need to observe a little quiet time." He looks at me pointedly. "That means shut up, Jew."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, pouting a little bit. I don't want Cartman to be grumpy with me. I watch my net as it moves through the water but keep an eye on Cartman as well. He rubs his temples and sighs a lot and I start to worry that he's actually sick - like fever sick and everything. We sit in silence for most of the afternoon. Our only interaction is to share a dehydrated meal (which tastes like _nothing_) and share a can of fresh water.

I'm worried, though. Cartman can't get sick. I need Cartman.

"Do you want to take a nap?" I suggest gently.

Cartman frowns at me. "I'm fine."

"I'm worried, Cartman." His expression softens; he can hear the worry in my voice, see it in my shaking hands. "Please."

He sighs. "Okay," he says. He slides underneath the tarp and I try to breathe easier. I tell myself that Cartman is not sick. He's just tired and hungry, which isn't anything new.

I manage to catch a small fish swimming near the surface. I kill it and leave it at my feet; Cartman is better at cutting it up than I am. It's almost evening now. I look in the direction of the coastline and tell myself that it looks closer.

"Kyle," Cartman says and I startle, just a little, because I thought he was asleep.

"What, Cartman?"

"Come here."

He's still underneath the tarp. "I don't know..." I mumble, looking at the coastline again. I'm afraid that if I fall asleep it won't be there when I wake up - which is ridiculous, really, because it's a huge coastline and it's not just going to disappear - but I do know that I'm not staying awake all night so I'll have to sleep sometime. Still, the hesitation's there.

"Kyle!" Cartman barks, annoyed now. "Get your scrawny ass in here! Now!"

"Fine, I'm coming," I say, ducking underneath the tarp. Cartman is sitting up on his elbow when I crawl inside and he narrows his eyes at me.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" I ask, sliding in next to him in the somewhat cramped space.

Cartman drops down to his back and pulls me down next to him. "I couldn't sleep," he mutters. He turns over, toward me, and buries his face in the sleeping bag which is being used as a pillow since it's warm enough that we don't need it as a blanket. I rest my head down next to his and turn on my side, facing away from him. It's still early but I'm tired. I could definitely sleep. Cartman cuddles right up next to me, putting his face in my neck and his arm across my chest. He inhales deeply and seems to relax, which is slightly weird since I'm fairly (definitely) sure that I smell like sweat and dirt and other gross stuff. But whatever. He must really not be feeling good if he's cuddling while I'm still awake. Or maybe he knows I've always been awake. Huh.

"Go to sleep, Jew," Cartman murmurs against the back of my neck, his lips barely pressing against it, dry. The sensation sends shivers down my spine and a part of my anatomy is suddenly very interested in Cartman (not that that's anything new). But Cartman isn't feeling good so I listen to him (for once) and go to sleep. Hopefully, when we wake up, we'll be close to land.

- KB -

It takes another full day and night before we finally reach the coastline.

Cartman tells me he's feeling better so I let him get out of our boat in the shallow waters near the coast to drag us onto land. He pulls the boat halfway onto the sandy beach we land on and I stumble out so that I can help him pull it up completely so that it's out of the water. The boat is heavy and we're not at our strongest so we don't get very far at all, but hopefully it's far enough away from the water that it won't drift away in a rogue wave. Cartman and I both hate this boat and the ocean, but we might need it again in the future, so we want to keep it safe.

After we stop pulling we both just stand there for a while, on either side of the boat, and I feel an overwhelming sense of vertigo at the lack of movement. I drop to my knees in the white sand, suddenly lightheaded, and try to catch my breath. The white sand is soft and fine when I put my hands in it and I breathe deeply as my body adjusts to the stillness. Cartman and I have been rocking in that boat for so long that the lack of motion is making me sick. That's really ironic, actually. And kind of sad.

Cartman seems to be having the same issue if his gasps are anything to go by, but he recovers faster than I do and soon enough I see his bare feet in my vision as he crouches down next to me. He puts a comforting hand on my neck and squeezes gently.

"You okay, Kyle?" he asks.

I nod and sit back on my heels. The world has finally stopped spinning and I take in our surroundings for the first time.

We're on a beach, obviously, and there's a line of trees in front of us that seems to stretch on for miles along the coastline. To the right of us is more beach, to the left is more beach, and behind us is the ocean. So, really, the only thing we can do now is go forward into the trees. I also note that the beach is completely empty.

"There's nobody around," I say, sadly. That's not a good sign.

"Yeah," Cartman agrees, and he bites his lip, worried. "So it looks like we have two options," he goes on, a moment later. "One, we walk along the beach and hope that we come across something eventually, or, two; we go inland through the forest - " he points to the trees - "and hope that we find something there."

I know he's right, but neither option sounds appealing to me. But I definitely don't want to go back onto the ocean so I say, "I think we should go inland. Maybe there's people somewhere."

"Okay," Cartman agrees, and we pack up all the supplies from the boat that we can carry (the sleeping bag, some rope, our thermos, the few meals we have left, my insulin, our fresh water, Cartman's backpack, among other things) and begin walking to the tree line. It's slow going, since both of us are used to just sidling around on the boat and not actually walking anywhere, but we'll get used to it. We get to the tree line and I stop, looking back. What if we need to come back? How will we know where the boat is?

Cartman is already a few yards into the forest. "Come on, Kyle," he says, motioning me forward with a hand.

"But the boat," I tell him.

"Don't worry about the boat, Kyle."

He seems impatient, so I forget about the boat (for now) and walk through the underbrush to join him. It's dark in the forest; the trees are tall and the leaves are thick so the only light is what is filtered through all the branches to reach the forest floor and it isn't much. There are no trials and the foliage is thick. Cartman walks in front of me, stomping through the plant life and pushing branches out of the way. The leaves and plants behind us are flattened and clearly walked on, so I guess we can get back to the boat by following our own trail, if need be.

"I don't think we're in a rain forest," I tell Cartman.

"Yeah," Cartman agrees. "I don't hear any animals and there's hardly any humidity."

I nod, though Cartman can't see it. It's hot, but dry, which I'm thankful for because otherwise we'd be sweating already. "Where do you think we are?" I ask as we continue crunching through the forest.

Cartman thinks about his answer for a while instead of just saying 'I don't know,' for which I'm thankful. "Well," he says eventually, "We're most likely on one of the Caribbean islands, since that's the direction we were heading in on the cruise ship. But we don't know which one, and we don't know if it's inhabited."

It's quiet as we both think about this. "We could also be on an island somewhere in Latin America, like, by Costa Rica, or something," I say.

"Possibly," he agrees.

Walking through the underbrush is hard work and we stop to rest for a little while against some trees. We share some water and some fish that we saved from the ocean. The fish doesn't make me feel sick to my stomach anymore. It doesn't even taste like anything. It just slips down my throat.

We walk for as long as we can before we take a break and set up camp. The sun is just starting to set when we decide to call it a night. Wow, malnutrition really sucks. We find a patch of land between the trees that's big enough so we can roll out the sleeping bag and settle down. Cartman gets into the sleeping bag first while I'm arranging our supplies in a neat pile and when I turn around to get in next to him I hesitate. Why do I hesitate? Cartman is looking at me with raised brows, holding the sleeping bag open for me in a clear invitation. I blush sheepishly and slip inside next to him without a word. He reaches over me to zip it up all the way and then settles down next to me, putting his arm under my head for a pillow.

I'm still blushing even though this isn't the first time we've slept next to each other. It just feels different this time, since the sleeping bag is closed and the space feels so... small. I glance up at Cartman through my eyelashes and see that he's looking at me and his eyes are practically _gleaming_. I squeak a little bit and turn over on my other side, heart pounding wildly. And I guess it's nice to know that Cartman can still make my heart pound.

Cartman chuckles from behind me, the bastard, and says, "Sleep, Kyle. We'll talk in the morning."

And I don't know if he means we'll talk about surviving or we'll talk about how I want to have sex with him or _what_, but I close my eyes and fall asleep because that's the easiest thing to do. And I really am quite tired.

- KB -

"Okay. So we obviously don't have enough stuff to create a fire big enough to get attention," I say the next morning while we consume the rest of our fish for breakfast.

"We don't have anything to create a fire," Cartman reminds me. "Remember? Our matches got soaked in that storm."

"Oh yeah," I say. "Well fuck."

Cartman grunts and finishes rolling up the sleeping bag. He puts it in his backpack and we start walking again.

"So our only option is to find some people who can help us," I say after a while.

"Looks like it," Cartman agrees, tromping along in front of me.

"Shouldn't be too difficult."

Cartman grunts in response and we keep walking. There's really nothing else we can do.

We're trying to walk in a straight line so that we don't walk in circles but I don't know how well we're doing. I keep looking up into the trees to see if there's any type of fruit we could possibly pick to eat but I haven't seen anything so far. I haven't seen any berries, either, though I would be nervous about eating those, since I don't know if they're poisonous or not.

And we haven't seen any animals, either, which is weird. There's got to be at least some animals. It can't be a _completely_ uninhabited island, right?

But even more important than animals is water. We need to find some water, and fast. Our supply from the boat is almost gone and then we'll have none left. I don't remember exactly how long a human can live without water, but Cartman and I are feeling weaker and weaker every day.

We're running out of time.


	17. Accomplishments Are Transient

**Author's Notes: **Wow! Big thank you to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter! They really keep me going!

I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! ;)

* * *

**The Steps To Success**

**Step Two: The Execution**

**Chapter Seventeen: Accomplishments Are Transient **

Around mid-day (at least, I think it's mid-day) Cartman and I find a trail. There's no footprints, or anything, but there is clearly a path made through the underbrush. We decide to follow it to see where it will lead us. The two of us have a debate of whether or not the trail proves there's human beings on the island. I think there is, because who else could have made a trail? But Cartman says that it could have been made by animals or could be natural, or something.

I tell him that's bull shit and he just shrugs in that annoying way of his with that expression on his face that he gets when he thinks that he's right about something but he's not arguing because he doesn't think it's worth his time and _God_, I want to fuck him.

I think the heat is getting to me. Seriously, the heat is destroying all my brain cells and making me horny. And it's even worse because I haven't jerked off in... how long have we been lost?... huh. I don't have the notebook anymore. I've lost count of the days we've been gone. The revelation makes me a little bit sad, but really, it doesn't matter, in the end.

We follow the trail until night fall, and it's easier because Cartman doesn't have to fight through the foliage so we cover a lot of ground. At least it feels like a lot of ground. We're both exhausted and we fall into the sleeping bag and I put my head on Cartman's shoulder and throw my arm across his chest because fuck it, I want to cuddle, damn it, and so I'm going to cuddle. The only one here to make fun of me is Cartman, and he won't because he likes cuddling just as much as I do.

We eat our last dehydrated meal in the morning and continue on the trail. We only have two cans of fresh water left; one for me and one for Cartman.

We have to find water today. We have to.

With this in mind, we both walk a little faster, pretty much as fast as we can without tiring ourselves out completely. It's a steady pace. Still, we don't find anything until much later in the afternoon, and what we do find isn't really that helpful. At all.

There's a fork in the trail. It just stops and splits off into another direction all of a sudden. The trail clearly goes forward but there's another trail leading off to the side right through the trees. We don't know where it leads and we don't know if we should follow it. What if it leads to nowhere? Should we stay on the main trail? We take a break and talk through it, agreeing that no matter what splitting up isn't an option. That's the first thing that comes out of my mouth and Cartman agrees immediately. In the end, we decide to follow the new trail to see where it takes us. We can always retrace our steps and come back to the main trail.

It turns out that we made the right choice (for once) in the end.

"Do you hear that?" Cartman asks. He still walks in front even though he doesn't have to move branches and things out of the way. He turns back to look at me, putting a finger to his lips for me to be silent. "Listen," he says.

I listen and faintly hear churning sounds that are very, very familiar. "Is that..." I question.

Cartman and I start running toward the sound - flat out sprinting in our excitement - and in half a minute we're breaking through the tree line and coming out into a grassy area where there's a natural pond with a little waterfall pouring down into it from a rock ledge.

"Water!" Cartman and I yell together and we rush over to it. We kneel at the edge, staring into the clear water.

"Do you think it's safe to drink?" I ask.

"Probably not," Cartman says, "But I'm gonna drink it anyways," and he cups the water in his hands and slurps it into this mouth. I stick my hands into the water and do the same, marveling at its coldness and how clear and clean it is. It's not a large pond, but it's definitely big enough to take a bath in. Holy fuck, a bath! I can take a bath! Holy shit, yes! Finally! I almost get naked right then and there but remember Cartman right at the last second.

I sit back and breathe deeply, collecting my thoughts. Okay, so there's water. Thank Jesus. But just because we finally found what we've been looking for doesn't mean I have to freak the fuck out. It's not like the pond is going anywhere, anyway. Calmed, I look over at Cartman to see that he's drinking the last of the water from his can. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he smirks at me. When he finishes with the water he puts the empty can in the pond and fills it up again.

"Oh," I say. "It's too bad we don't have a larger container to carry water in," I say, but I follow his lead and fill my own can full of pond water.

"I'm going to explore the clearing," Cartman says.

"Okay," I say. I recline to my back, putting my arms behind my head. "I'll be here."

Cartman huffs and gets to his feet. I watch him in my peripheral vision as he walks all the way around the pond to the other side of the little oasis and over to the tree line. He disappears into the trees on the other side and I sit up in alarm.

"Cartman?" I call out, getting to my feet. He doesn't answer. "Cartman!" I yell again, frantic. My feet start moving and I'm almost to the place where he disappeared when he comes back through the trees.

"What the fuck, dude?" I yell. "Not cool. You can't just leave like that." I wrap my arms around myself so that I don't do something stupid and embarrassing, like reach out and give Cartman a hug.

He looks surprised by my outburst. "Sorry, Kyle," he says, reflexive.

"Whatever," I say, blushing because I totally over-reacted. "I thought you said you were going to explore _the clearing_." I put extra emphasis on the clearing.

"I was, but then - look at this," he says, pointing to the ground near our feet. "It's another trail, see?" I do see it, now that I'm not freaking out. It's another trail just like the other ones we've been following.

"Well, that's nice, I suppose," I say, reluctant. "But we just got here. Can we rest for a little bit and then decide if we want to move on?" I make my voice sound extra whiny and put on my most pathetic expression. It seems to do the trick because Cartman sighs and follows me back to sit near the pond. We lounge around for a while, drinking more water than we've had in the past week until we're both full and can't drink anymore. It's a different kind of full; we're both still hungry but the water is a comforting weight in our bellies.

I feel dirty and grimy and can't stop thinking about what it would feel like to get naked and submerge myself in the cool, clear water of the pond. It doesn't matter that we don't have soap, I'll be happy with just rinsing the dirt off of my skin and out of my hair. I really want to do it, except that it requires getting naked in front of Cartman, and while we've both seen each other's junk (it's kind of hard not to when you're stuck on a boat and you have to take a shit) it feels somehow different. Like being in this little secluded clearing is... intimate, or something. Cartman is also giving the pond longing looks, so I know he wants the same thing, but he hasn't said anything.

Well, one of us has to make the first move, because there's no way I'm just going to sit here when there's a perfectly awesome pond to bathe and relax in. Maybe if I just take off my clothes and don't say anything Cartman won't notice until I'm already in the water. It's worth a try, so I sit up slowly and lift my ratty shirt over my head. Cartman was facing the other way, but turns to look at the movement, of course. Well, I'm not turning back, now. I get to my feet and remove my shorts, which are still in pretty good condition, and then I pause, blushing.

Cartman just watches me silently. I got rid of my socks long ago, so I'm just standing there in my dirty boxers debating if I should go in the pond with them still on. I suppose I could, but they're so dirty and gross and I really want to take them off and get fucking _clean_. So I take a deep breath, turn around towards the pond, and pull my boxers down my thighs and past my calves, bending over to pull them off my feet as I step out of them. I can feel a full-body flush covering me and I _know_ Cartman is watching my ass as I wade carefully into the pond. I know these things, but they're pushed to the back of my mind as I finally feel the cool water rush over me. It's the best I've felt in a long time. I continue walking toward the middle of the pond and get deeper and deeper into the water, only stopping when it's up to my chin.

It feels so good, and some other time I might have felt bad about making the pond water dirty, but right now I just don't give a fuck. All I can concentrate on is the feeling of rubbing myself clean, of watching as the dirt is finally washed away from my skin. I rub my arms and my chest and my stomach, hold my breath and dunk my head under, and scrub at my hair viciously. I'm so glad that I had Cartman cut it for me. I come back up for air and scrub at my face and neck and my shoulders, focusing only on getting clean. I'm so focused on my task that I don't even realize Cartman is behind me until I feel his hands on my back.

I stand still, not turning around as Cartman rubs water on my back, washing the dirt off of the places I can't reach. I'm almost holding my breath, I'm so still. I wonder how long he's been standing there, watching me. Is he naked? Oh, God, he's probably naked. My heart's jack-rabbiting in my chest as I process these thoughts.

Cartman is naked behind me.

Cartman is naked and touching my back.

Cartman is naked.

_Cartman is naked._

His hands still on my back and then move up to settle on my shoulders.

"Kyle," he whispers in my ear. He turns me around to face him - _oh God, oh God, oh God_ - and cups my face in his hands, leaning down to kiss me. And I just let him. I tilt my head up and close my eyes and just focus on the feeling of his lips on mine. Finally, after all this waiting, I'm finally kissing Cartman, and it's perfect. It's all I can think about; in this moment, kissing Cartman is all I know. I want to make it good for him, I want to make him understand how I feel without using words. I open my mouth when he licks my lower lip and our tongues touch and Cartman's hands are on my neck, holding me so that I can't get away - like I would even try - and I realize that I've been so focused on kissing him that I've left my hands limp by my sides. I move them up to Cartman's shoulders and tangle one of them in his hair, pulling slightly, and Cartman shivers.

He sucks my tongue into his mouth and I let out an involuntary groan. It's so erotic and I want him so much. I've never felt this way before, ever.

I love kissing Cartman. I want to kiss Cartman all the time. His lips are soft and the perfect shape - just a little bit plumper than mine - and the way he presses forward into me, the way that every movement of his lips on mine is meaningful and deliberate makes me feel wanted, like Cartman has wanted this for a long time, too. And that thought makes me crazy because we could have been kissing for a long time, way before this, and why haven't we? We should just kiss all the time.

Cartman seems to feel the same way. He's kissing me unhurriedly, like we have all the time in the world, and he's making no moves to stop even though this is the longest kiss I've ever shared with anyone, by far. One of us is going to have to stop at some point, but not yet. I'm still reveling in the feeling of knowing that we both want this and the knowledge that Cartman wants me. It's an amazing feeling.

And just the fact that it's _Cartman_ - Cartman, who doesn't like anyone, who never shows his feelings, who is secretly kind of a genius - just the fact that it's _him_ that I'm kissing makes the whole thing even better because I thought that he hated me and if he still does this is a really weird way of showing it and I'm having a hard time forming complete, coherent thoughts, so I stop trying and just kiss. Yeah, that's better.

In the end, I'm the one who breaks the kiss, pulling my head back and breathing heavily in and out of my mouth. Cartman simply moves his mouth down to my neck and latches onto the skin there with is mouth, sucking and licking with the flat of his tongue, and he's definitely in the process of giving me a hickey there and I just close my eyes and moan because it feels good and there's only Cartman out here to hear me, anyway.

My neck aches from tilting my head back for such a long time and I'm sure Cartman's does as well since he's been leaning down to meet me halfway so I grip his broad shoulders in my hands and pull him down into the water so that I can climb him like a fucking tree and then our heads are at the same level and I'm clinging onto Cartman's shoulders with my legs wrapped around his torso and, God, my dick is pressed up against his stomach and he can definitely feel how hard I am from just _kissing_ and maybe I'd feel embarrassed about that except that Cartman fucking _whimpers_ against my neck and grabs my ass with both hands, squeezing my cheeks together, and he unlatches his mouth from my neck and oh, look, there are his lips again and I swoop in for another kiss because fuck yeah, this is even better than before and I rub myself against his stomach while we kiss, rougher and faster this time, and it feels amazing in the cool water.

I have to pull back from the kiss again because I'm gasping and Cartman is squeezing my ass and there's not enough friction on my cock and I'm whining, now, in the back of my throat, just completely gone and so ready to come, I want to come, I want to watch Cartman come so fucking bad, and with that thought I untangle myself from him and slip my hand under the water, finding Cartman's cock and gripping it in my hand. Cartman groans deliciously and I grin because he's just as hard as I am and I can barely fit my fingers all the way around his dick he so fucking thick and I can definitely work with that.

I try to jerk him off under the water but it's hard because I can't move my hand very fast.

"Let's get out of the water," I tell him, my voice rough and gravelly and that's actually kind of hot and when I let go of Cartman's dick he follows me out of the water and then pulls me down onto the grass and climbs on top of me, but instead of immediately going for my dick, he kisses me again, forcing my mouth open with his tongue and wow, Cartman _really likes_ kissing. Who would have thought?

I grab his dick again and he breaks the kiss with a moaned, "Jesus,_ Kyle_," before swooping back down to my neck to give me another hickey.

"_Fuck_," I moan, the word drawn out of me. I look down between our bodies, aligning them so that our cocks are touching. My hand isn't big enough to wrap around both of them, but Cartman takes the hint and wraps his own hand around them, pushing them together and jerking both of us off at the same time.

Cartman unlatches his mouth from my neck and joins me in looking down at our dicks, and fuck it's hot and feels amazing and holy shit I'm so gay. I want to laugh hysterically because I'm so fucking gay for this asshole on top of me and holy fuck I'm gonna come.

"I'm gonna come," I moan at Cartman.

"Yeah," he says quietly, breathlessly, and he moves his hand even faster.

I close my eyes as my orgasm rushes through me and a punched-out groan escapes my parted lips as I come all over my stomach and chest. Cartman follows soon after, his spunk landing on top of mine and he makes a helpless sound that makes my soft dick twitch pathetically.

He rolls off of me and we lay there side by side in the grass as we come down from our orgasm highs. It's the best I've felt in a long time and I kind of want to take a nap, but I can feel our come drying on my chest and while that's kind of hot it's also kind of gross so I sit up and go back into the pond to clean it off. When I turn around I see Cartman watching me with lidded eyes. He's completely naked and unashamed about it.

He joins me in the pond again and lets me rub water over his back and run my fingers through his hair to get the dirt out. It's strangely intimate. When I'm done cleaning him he turns around and kisses me again, holding a gentle hand on my hip under the water. I smile slightly into the kiss as he presses his lips chastely to mine over and over again.

We're both exhausted so we just get out of the water and collapse against each other in the grass to snooze and dry out in the sun. Neither of us say anything, but the silence isn't awkward. It's like we've both known about our want for each other, and we've both been waiting for something to happen, and now that it has we both just feel relieved. Or, at least, that's how I feel.

I know that we'll have to talk eventually, about our _feelings_ and whatnot, but right now the silence is golden and I'm in a place where I've accepted the fact that I like Cartman, a lot, and where I choose to believe that Cartman likes me a lot, too.

It's a nice place.

* * *

**Finally some action, right? There's still more to come... Please leave me a comment! **


End file.
